


Hurry Up And Wait

by MittenWraith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Fae & Fairies, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, M/M, Newly Human Castiel, No British Men of Letters, a disgusting quantity of LotR references, i assume they all died of gross incompetence or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10127084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: Cas has given up his grace to hunt with the Winchesters, but that's not the only thing that's been a long time in the making. A strange potential case perks Dean's interest, if for no other reason than it pushes every geeky button he's got. An impossible murder committed with a sword from a special collection of weapons straight out of the Lord of the Rings leads them to discover another treasure they've waited far too long to find again.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean wasn’t really paying much attention that morning as he ambled out to the kitchen to get the coffee started. They’d gotten in late the night before from a hunt, and he’d been up even later trying to shake off the long drive home. Mary, Sam, and Cas had all dragged themselves straight off to bed, but Dean had still been wired awake from nine straight hours behind the wheel. Just one more cycle in the long game of hurry up and wait that had defined his life.

As such, Dean knew a thousand useful tricks to help pass the time. He’d cleaned and organized all his weapons, sorted his laundry, and then repacked his duffel to the minimum standard for getting the hell outta dodge in case of emergency before finally winding down enough to pass out for a few hours. So it shouldn’t have surprised him that someone else had beaten him to the coffee maker.

Seeing the half-empty pot was enough of a wake-up call to the fact that he probably shouldn’t be wandering around in just his boxers with his Dead Guy Robe hanging open over top. He groaned at the reminder that his mother could very well be up and about and tied his robe shut with a quick glance over his shoulder to be sure she hadn’t been sitting at the kitchen table the whole time, scandalized by his utter lack of decorum. The room was blessedly empty. His dignity salvaged, he sighed and poured himself a cup of coffee and then parked himself in his usual spot at the table.

He sipped at his coffee and eyeballed his laptop, debating whether he was really awake enough to do anything productive on it yet or if he needed another cup of coffee first. A few more sips and he rolled his eyes and pried it open. They’d been home all of twelve hours. It was too soon to go looking for a new hunt yet, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t surf the net for entertainment purposes.

And no, he wasn’t about to watch porn at the kitchen table at nine in the morning, thank you very much. He enjoyed other forms of entertainment, no matter what Sam might say to Jody.

Dean refreshed the local news website that had led them to their last hunt and got up to top off his coffee while he waited for the new video to load. It started playing before he even rounded the table to the coffee maker, the reporter gravely informing viewers of  _yet another mysterious disappearance_.

“Yeah, and it’ll be the last one,” Dean muttered under his breath as he refilled his mug.

She described the latest victim and his role as a community leader, giving details of his last known whereabouts, and advising the public to call the local police if they had any information. Dean snorted at that. Yeah, he had plenty of information, but nothing he’d be willing to share with the local cops. It’s not like anyone would believe a city councilman had been possessed by a demon, and had been responsible for all those other mysterious disappearances himself. That’s the sort of information that got you locked up in a padded room.

Sam had him eagerly agreeing to drop everything to head out on that hunt before he’d even given him the details of the case. All Dean had needed to hear was “on the outskirts of  Las Vegas,” and he’d run off to pack before Sam could even finish the sentence. They were more than a hundred miles into the drive before Sam corrected Dean’s assumption and they’d had to detour off to the south, toward Las Vegas, New Mexico. The rest of the trip had proven to be just as big a disappointment as that clarification had been. Turned out there’s pretty much fuck-all interesting to do in Las Vegas, New Mexico.

Aside from exorcising a demon out of a city councilman and then getting rid of the body.

He ambled back to his seat and was just about to check his email-- not that anyone ever really sent him email, but _whatever--_ when Cas shuffled through the doorway looking about as alert and disheveled as Dean had felt a few minutes earlier. At least Cas had managed to pull on proper clothes; jeans and one of Dean’s old t-shirts.

“Mornin’, sunshine. There’s coffee if you want it,” Dean said, pointing at the nearly empty pot. He probably should’ve made more.

“Of course I want it,” Cas replied in a groggy rasp.

Humanity had hit him hard this time around. Maybe because this time he’d chosen it, and he knew it was permanent. It hadn’t been all that long yet, either. Dean hadn’t seen Cas’s entire adjustment to the human condition the last time he’d struggled through it-- just a few stolen glimpses here and there-- but he did know that it had been rough before, too. Dean was doing everything in his power to make it easier on Cas this time, but even with his past experience as a human to draw on, it still had to be a lot for the guy to take in and process.

As soon as Cas sat down with the last of the coffee, Dean stood up to make another pot. He patted Cas on the shoulder as he carried the pot to the sink to rinse it out and refill it with water, and then tried not to think too hard about the fact that he’d absently let his hand drift across the back of Cas’s shoulders as he’d walked past. One shocked little glance back at the guy, sitting slumped over his mug like he was in danger of falling asleep and drowning in three inches of coffee, left Dean breathing a sigh of relief. No way did Cas notice what he’d done. Dude was barely awake enough to notice Dean was even in the same room.

Of course, Dean had turned around a fraction of a second too late to see the look of sleepy surprise cross Cas’s face before he quickly focused down into the darkness of his coffee until he could regain his composure.

By the time Sam walked in ten minutes later, Dean and Cas were both approaching a state that could be deemed “mostly awake,” and there was plenty more coffee to be had. Sam froze in his tracks, laptop balanced on one hand and his empty mug clutched in the other.

“I didn’t realize you guys were up,” Sam said, before recovering from the shock and setting his laptop down at the table. “Mom and I are in the library. We think we might’ve found an interesting new case.”

Dean glared up at his brother. Yeah, he was awake, but fucking _barely_.

“We haven’t even been home twenty four hours, and you wanna head back on the road already?”

Sam shrugged and filled his mug before settling down at the table. “It might not even be our kinda thing, but it’s weird enough that it’s probably worth keeping an eye on anyway.” He spun his laptop around for Dean to see.

“What, is ebay haunted now?” Dean said, glancing at what appeared to be a page of online auction listings before smirking up at Sam.

Sam was unfazed, like he’d expected this reaction from his brother. “No, Dean. Take a closer look.”

Cas leaned around the edge of the screen, curiously looking over the listings, his head and shoulder inching dangerously into Dean’s personal space. Granted, Dean’s definition of personal space when it came to Cas was already drastically smaller than it was for anyone else, but this was pushing even his adjusted-for-Cas personal space bubble. The guy was practically in his lap, for chrissakes. Sam said nothing, just sat there sipping his coffee and watching them both. Dean glared at his little brother, daring him to say anything, before squishing in beside Cas to play Sam’s strange little game of Spot The Clue. Cas, with his fifteen second head start on solving the puzzle, came up with the salient details first.

“These items are all listed as authentic props from the Lord of the Rings films. And they’re all being sold by the same person.”

“Well, they were,” Sam said. “Every listing’s been frozen.”

“And this is our business because we were in the market for a bunch of movie props?” Dean said, trying to contain his secret glee over seeing so many of the cool swords and daggers up close and in such stunning detail. As far as props went, they beat the hell out of the foam replica of Sting that Charlie had broken over Sam’s head the first time they’d met her. He pushed that thought away and tried to think less traumatizing thoughts, but it was hard to do while looking at this collection. Charlie would’ve loved it. Since when did movie props start looking so much like real weapons anyway?

“It’s our business because these aren’t movie props,” Sam said.

Cas glared at him. “The listings clearly state they are movie props, Sam. I think you need some more coffee.”

Sam snorted and shook his head. “They were _listed_ as authentic props, but the listings all have a disclaimer. The swords, the knives, the armor… they’re all the real deal. They’re the originals that all the props were modeled on. They’re all one of a kind, or so the listings claimed.”

That bit of information had Dean taking a closer look. The first listing he clicked on was for Arwen’s sword, etched with flowing Elvish script and inlaid with delicate gold motifs. He took a moment to wonder if it could effectively replace his usual machete for vampire beheadings, or if that would just be too weird. Sam interrupted his contemplation to keep yammering on about why any of this-- while interesting to Dean’s inner geek for entirely non-case reasons-- would constitute a potential hunt for them in the first place.

Sam stood up and peered over the top of the screen. He sighed, knowing which sword would’ve caught Dean’s attention first, and gestured at the laptop with his mug. “That one was found embedded in its previous owner, one Rudolph Jerome, yesterday afternoon.”

Dean made a disgusted and disappointed face, along with the appropriate accompanying gagging sound. Still, curiosity won out. “Didn’t happen to take the guy’s head off with it first?”

Sam shook his head and stared at Dean for a second. “You are not using an Elven sword to behead vampires, Dean.”

“Spoilsport,” Dean replied, getting back to the murder. “So some rich nerd got ventilated with his own sword. Still don’t see how this is a case.”

“Nothing was stolen,” Sam began, counting out the points of his argument with his fingers. “There was no sign of a break in. And third, and possibly most importantly, they lifted a couple of handprints off the sword, but because of their unusual size, they estimated that the person who left them there couldn’t possibly be more than five or six years old.”

Dean shared a dubious glance with Cas. “So he was stabbed to death by a toddler?”

“Not a toddler. More like a kindergartner. And not just stabbed. Defeated in a duel, from the looks of it,” Sam clarified. “They found one tiny leather glove at the scene, and from where they found it lying beside his body, it appears Jerome had tried to defend himself with Sting.”

“Huh,” Dean replied, staring past Sam’s head to the blank wall behind him, imagining the fight had gone down. “Sort of unevenly matched against Hadhafang. ‘Specially if the little dude knew what he was doing with a blade. Longer reach to compensate for his shorter build.” He looked to Cas, their resident blade expert, for confirmation.

Cas scrolled down the page of ebay listings until he found the one for Sting. After reading the specifications, he looked to Dean and nodded. “That’s likely a reasonable claim.”

Sam sat there staring indignantly at the both of them for a minute. “You can’t possibly be arguing that a little kid outclassed a grown man in a sword fight just because he chose a better weapon.”

“I didn’t say it was better,” Dean replied, miming the various moves as he talked. “Sting’s awesome. But it’s more of a long dagger for close-in fighting. Hadhafang’s designed to fight from horseback. Longer reach, better for delivering slashing blows at a greater distance.”

Sam glanced to Cas, because he couldn’t really believe what he was hearing. He was half disappointed that Cas was just nodding along with Dean’s assessment of the two weapons in question, but he supposed Cas would be familiar with that sort of thing. Warrior of Heaven or whatever. Or maybe Cas just thought that anything Dean talked about was worth nodding along in agreement with. Either way, Sam had heard enough.

“Okay. After that little speech, Dean, you are never allowed to call me a nerd again.” He turned to Cas. “You, either.”

“I’ve never called you a nerd,” Cas replied, looking confused and maybe a little bit hurt for a moment.

“This shit’s been part of our basic training since we were old enough to pick up a knife, Sammy. Don’t know why it didn’t occur to you, too.”

“Probably because I was too busy thinking about how someone the size of a human child was able to even pick up and swing the sword in the first place, let alone fight a grown man to the death with it. Oh, and then disappear without a trace afterward.”

“Maybe it was a hobbit,” Dean argued.

“Right. And wouldn’t that make this our kind of case?” Sam countered.

“There’s no such thing as hobbits, Sam,” Cas replied, sounding wistful about that fact.

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes. “No, I know it’s not a hobbit. But it’s probably something not human. Jerome’s only daughter is an adult, and there’s no other kids who would’ve had access to the house or the collection. Whatever attacked him, it’s probably our kind of thing.”

“A hobbit would never attack a man unprovoked in his own home anyway,” Cas replied. “They have better manners than that. So what do you think it was?”

Dean grinned bemusedly at Cas and then turned to Sam. “Yeah, what he said.”

“You’re gonna be like this the whole hunt, aren’t you?”

Dean shrugged and grinned at him, so Sam heaved a sigh and went on.

“We don’t know yet. All we know is he’d listed the entire collection for sale a couple of days before, against his daughter’s wishes. Apparently the guy wanted the weapons out of his house, and had called in an appraiser and an antiques dealer last week. They overheard Jerome tell his daughter they’d have to sell the collection. She emphatically told him that wasn’t an option, and showed them the door.”

“How emphatically?” Dean interrupted.

“What?”

“Like, emphatically enough to think she could’a conjured up some pint sized nasty to off her father when he went behind her back and put the whole shebang up on ebay?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s a thought.”

Dean glared back at Sam again. “You know we’ve been home less than a day, right?”

“You do know that a man is dead, right?”

The glaring continued until Cas broke in with rationality. “If Sam thinks this might be something we can help with, it would be negligent for us to let it wait too long. Whatever killed Mr. Jerome might still be at large.”

Dean rubbed one hand over his face and looked back down at the computer monitor still displaying the bounty of gorgeous swords and armor. It would be a pity to pass up the chance to check out all those weapons in person. Plus, monsters to hunt and people to save. “Fine, you’re right. Where exactly are we going, and can it wait until I finish my coffee?”

Sam had told him to take as much time as he needed, as long as it wasn’t _too_ long. As he’d left the kitchen with another cup of coffee, he’d told Dean to pack for a trip to Orlando. Just from the impish glint in his brother’s eye, Dean suspected they weren’t bound for amusement parks and sandy beaches.

“Orlando, Oklahoma,” Sam clarified when Dean had stared him down.

At least it wouldn’t mean two days cooped up in the car with everyone. That was something.

“Mom and I are heading out now, though,” Sam called out as he strolled away. “You and Cas can catch up to us as soon as you’re ready to face the world again.”

Dean gave Sam a minute or two to vacate the area and then turned to Cas. “So, breakfast?”

Cas grinned back and him and nodded happily. Sam and Mary were on the case. The tiny murderer could wait for Cas and Dean for another hour or two.


	2. Chapter 2

The tiny murderer apparently couldn’t wait. He’d struck again an hour before Dean and Cas rolled into town. Mary called them from the crime scene to update them on the situation. Cas put the phone on speaker while Dean pressed the gas pedal down just a skosh more. The case may not have seemed urgent before breakfast that morning, but with Sam and Mary both tiny-murderer-adjacent now, Dean couldn’t help but want to be on the scene as soon as possible, just in case.

“Linda Jerome decided last night that she couldn’t live with her precious collection anymore after what happened to her father. She called a storage company to come and clear everything out until she could decide what to do with it. The men she hired began packing everything up at ten this morning. They’d been working for about half an hour when she stepped into the kitchen for a glass of water, and less than two minutes later she heard a loud crash. Said it sounded like some sort of battle going on in the display room. When she ran out to yell at the moving crew, she found Robert Pinsky dead on the floor, apparently strangled by Sauron’s empty suit of armor.”

“Sounds like the kind of thing Sauron would leave to one of the Nazgul,” Dean said, grinning at Cas before clearing his throat and turning his attention back to the road when he was met with a disbelieving stare.

“Were there any witnesses?” Cas asked.

“Two other movers had been out loading a crate onto their truck. Only Pinsky and Linda were inside the house at the time.”

“So it’s not looking like Tinyhands McStabby’s MO this time. You think there’s more than one… thing… at work here?”

“Maybe. There was no EMF. No sulfur. No cold spots. The police didn’t find any fingerprints on or in the armor, but it looked like someone had posed the empty suit so it was crouching over the body. I saw the pictures. It was creepy.”

“Doesn’t sound like anyone would’ve had enough time to set it up like that, if Linda was only out of the room for a minute or two” Dean argued. “You can’t just pose an empty suit of armor like an action figure.”

There was a moment of silence on the line, and finally Mary couldn’t contain her curiosity any more. “How do you know so much about medieval armor?”

Dean laughed, yet again thinking of Charlie. “Long story. I’ll tell you over dinner if you want. But Sauron’s armor ain’t medieval. It’s not even practical.”

“Okay,” Mary said eventually, still thrown off by Dean’s comments.

“Look, I brought the DVD’s with us. We can watch the movies later tonight at the motel if you want. You can see for yourself.”

Mary’s voice was softer when she replied. “I think I’d like that. I used to love those books. The cartoon they made about the Hobbit was terrible, though. I can’t imagine how they managed to make a film that could live up to the books, but after seeing some of the props here today, I’m intrigued.”

Dean couldn’t help but grin. He couldn’t wait to blow his mom’s mind with some spectacular modern cinema.

Cas let them enjoy their small moment of bonding before clearing his throat and startling them both out of their thoughts.

“Right, the case,” Mary said. “You were right about the suit of armor, Dean. The first officer on the scene took photos before attempting to move the armor off the vic. As soon as he tried to shift the gauntlet from Pinsky’s neck, the entire thing collapsed. The whole suit was held together with leather straps, and they’d been unbuckled to dismantle it for packing anyway. By all logic, it shouldn’t have been able to defy gravity as long as it did.”

“Unless something supernatural had made it so,” Cas agreed.

“Yeah,” Mary said. “Sam and I are going to interview the appraiser and the antiques dealer. See if they can tell us anything else. By the time you get here, they’ll probably be done packing all the weapons and armor up. The local cops seized the entire collection as evidence and are taking it to the police lab in Stillwater.”

“I guess me and Cas can head straight to the police station and follow the evidence.”

“We’ll keep you updated, then,” Mary replied. “Drive safe. Love you.”

“Yeah, you too, mom.”

Cas hung up the phone and Dean pushed the Impala even faster.

They stopped at a Gas N Sip on the edge of town to fill up Baby’s tank and change into their fed suits. By the time they rolled up to the police station, the storage company van filled with evidence from the Jerome house had arrived. Despite itching to see it all for himself, Dean ignored the forensics crew unloading the goods and behaved like the law enforcement professional he was pretending to be. He and Cas walked purposefully through the front door of the building and flashed their badges, asking to speak to the detective assigned to the Jerome and Pinsky cases.

“Agents Mortensen and Bloom?” A man about Dean’s height with a slighter build and a close-cropped military style haircut wove his way through a maze of desks with a hand extended for Dean and Cas to shake. “Detective Matt Bynum. Usually I’d complain about the feds stepping on toes, but frankly I’m grateful you’re here for this one.”

“That bad, eh?” Dean replied with a grin, shaking the detective’s hand.

Bynum shrugged. “Beats the hell outta interviewing every kindergartner in town as a murder suspect. I’m more than happy to pass the Froot Loops on to you. I still gotta live in this town, ya know?”

“Froot Loops are our specialty,” Cas replied bemusedly.

The detective laughed and ushered them through to the evidence lockup where everything from the crime scene was being stored. The bloodstained sword that had killed Rudy Jerome was still in the lab, as was the armor found atop Robert Pinsky. The rest of the collection was spread out over three large tables, and a technician was methodically entering all the information from the tags stuck to each item into the case file.

“Why bring in everything?” Dean asked, leaning over to more closely appreciate the detail on Aragorn’s sword, Anduril. “Seems like a lot of extra paperwork for nothing. None of this stuff was related to either murder, was it?”

Detective Bynum laughed again. “Craziest thing. Linda Jerome _insisted_ we take it all. Said it was cursed, and she didn’t want any of it in her house. She said she was gonna donate all of it to some museum, but after today, she just wanted it out of her house ASAP. Can’t say I blame her. Some of this stuff is pretty damn creepy,” he said, running a finger down the spike atop the Witch King’s helmet.

“Cursed?” Dean asked absently.

The detective shrugged and didn’t comment further. Two men killed in one house in less than two days was probably enough even for people who had no idea that sometimes curses were all too real to start believing. Dean was still preoccupied looking over the swords and knives on display, so Cas kept the conversation going, leaving off further inquiry into curses for later.

“Our colleagues informed us that Ms. Jerome was opposed to her father selling the collection, yet now she’s eager to give it away?”

“Hey, if she’s in a giving mood, I’d be happy to take it off her hands,” Dean said, picking up one of Legolas’s long ivory-handled knives and twirling it around a few times like he did with his angel blade, admiring the balance, and eventually setting it back on the table. Detective Bynum just stared at him for a second while Cas practically beamed at Dean from behind the Detective’s shoulder.

“Yeah, um. You’ll have to take that up with her,” the detective replied. “Far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to it. We really don’t have the space to keep this stuff here indefinitely. This ain’t a public storage outfit.”

“That’s where this was headed though, right? Pinsky worked for a storage company?” Dean asked, carefully testing the edge of another one of the long swords, surprising himself with the dangerously sharp blade.

“Yeah, you probably saw their van parked outside when you came in. The company’s based in Enid, ‘bout thirty miles the other side of Orlando from here. Don’t know if you noticed, but there’s not much to Orlando itself.”

“Makes you wonder how all this stuff ended up there, of all places” Dean replied.

“Some people got weird hobbies,” The detective countered. “I don’t judge.”

“I think Agent Mortensen was implying that it’s strange that a collection of this sort wasn’t already in a museum, but hidden away in an average rural home,” Cas said.

“Yeah, that,” Dean replied with a little smile at Cas, finally distracted from the stunning display of weapons.

“Linda Jerome is some sort of literature professor. She said she came by the entire collection through her work,” Detective Bynum said. “Did some sort of international exchange program about ten years back, and came home with the lot of it. Said it was a gift from a friend, and that’s all she knew about it.”

Cas hummed and peered more closely at a heavy steel gauntlet lying on the table in front of him, but didn’t touch it. “You’d think a professor would be more concerned with the provenance of her collection.”

“Yeah, provenances can get tricky,” Dean said absently. “Had a case years ago that came down to the provenance of this ugly-ass painting…” he trailed off, since that was about the extent of that case he cared to talk about in front of a law enforcement officer. No need to go into the breaking and entering, destruction of private property, grave desecration, and burglary he and Sam had pulled off in the process of getting rid of the ghost who’d been haunting it. Cas was looking at him, curious to hear more, so Dean just shook his head. He could tell Cas about it later. “Don’t know why anyone was even interested in the thing. This stuff, though. She’s probably sitting on a gold mine.”

“You’d probably know better than me. You done in here?” Bynum asked.

“Yeah, let’s see the bodies,” Dean replied, with one last longing glance at the collection.

Out in the hall, Dean paused to text the storage company’s address to Sam. He and Mary were already on their way to Enid. If Sam thought it was worth looking into, he could swing by and poke around while they were out there talking with the antiques people. Dean wasn’t convinced there was much point to it since the first murder had been committed before the storage company was even called in, but it paid to cover all their bases anyway.

There was nothing special about either body. Jerome had a few defensive slash wounds down the backs of his hands and arms and a stab wound to the chest, just like you’d expect from a guy who lost a sword fight. Pinksy had a knot on the side of his head where he’d been clocked by one of the heavy gauntlets and a mark in the shape of the jointed fingers of that same glove around his throat from being strangled to death. Dean cast a few inquiring glances up at Cas, hoping he’d be able to get some sort of a sense of what had killed either man, but Cas just shook his head.

“What about the weapons they were killed with?” Dean asked.

“Still being processed. You can see the sword, but the armor’s just gone in for a thorough examination. Jake should be done pulling it apart by the end of the day.”

Dean held back the groan of agony at the thought of someone _pulling apart_ such a unique and probably valuable suit of armor, even without counting all the geek cred points ever, but something of his internal turmoil must’ve shown on his face. Bynum threw his head back and laughed.

“Don’t worry, agent. Jake knows what he’s doing. He’s not gonna take a blowtorch to it or anything.”

Cas leaned over to mutter to Dean, “We’re too far from Mount Doom for anyone to throw it in either.”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, but could barely contain his smile at that reference.

“Do you think we could look over the crime scene photos?” Cas asked.

Mary and Sam had already seen them, and had even seen the crime scene itself, but it wouldn’t hurt to get fresh eyes on all the evidence. Maybe by the time they were done flipping through photos they’d be able to get a look at the armor itself, or what was left of it after Jake finished dismantling it.

Bynum set the two of them up at a computer in the squad room and pulled up the two case files. Dean and Cas scrolled through the pictures, but absolutely nothing stood out at first. First up were pictures of the entire room, gradually zeroing in on the body of Rudy Jerome lying in the center of the polished wooden floor in a pool of his own blood. A few close-ups of the sword he’d apparently tried to wield that was found beside his body were also unremarkable. The close-ups of the hilt of the sword impaled through his chest were another matter. In the photos, it was clear that the sword was covered with what looked like small, ashy handprints. Dean was about to ask if they’d taken any photos before someone dusted sword for prints when Cas advanced to the next picture. It showed the same hilt, dusted with red fingerprint powder. He and Cas exchanged a curious look.

“The prints were visible before they dusted,” Dean said quietly.

Cas scrolled back to the previous picture and stared at the monitor closely for a moment before advancing through to the pictures from the Pinsky murder. Dean whistled when he saw the first shots. It looked like Sauron himself crouched over the poor man.

“Shit, if I’d seen that comin’ for me I’d probably have saved him the trouble and dropped dead.”

Cas elbowed Dean in the side and grumbled, “You’ve faced down more terrifying things than Sauron and lived to tell the tale.”

“Usually lived. Sometimes not,” Dean corrected him.

Cas just shrugged. “You got better.”

“I had help,” Dean replied, grinning over at Cas and patting his knee.

Cas smiled back and returned to the photos. Either it was impossible to discern any of the strange dusty prints they’d seen on the sword against the dark armor or there just weren’t any prints to see. The first three shots were all taken from various angles, before the next series of pictures covered the individual pieces of armor that had scattered across the floor in the crash resulting from a failed game of Dark Lord Jenga.

“At least it doesn’t look like Jake’s gonna have to do a lot of pulling apart,” Dean said, clicking through the last of the shots. “More like he’s gonna have to put it back together.”

“Hey, now,” said a man walking through the squad room behind them. “Gotta check the whole thing for prints before I can even think about that.”

Dean turned to see a stocky man in a white lab coat had stopped directly behind them. His long red hair was tied back into a braid, and the name _Jake_ was embroidered over the pocket of his coat.

“Sorry, man,” Dean replied, standing up. “You find anything useful yet?”

“You’re the FBI agents?” Jake asked, and then without waiting for a reply ran straight on in a fit of geek raptures. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I mean did you even _see_ the swords and shit? I see a lot of blades in my line of work, but nothing like that. And the armor! I haven’t even been able to get a proper assessment of the alloy yet. It weighs a hell of a lot less than armor that strong should, and the _detail_ on it. If I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it was possible to forge metal like that.”

Dean had nodded along politely while Cas watched on curiously. The provenance of the collection was looking sketchier by the minute. When crime lab techs were baffled by weaponry on a case they already suspected had a supernatural connection, it raised red flags for any hunter worth his salt. As pleased as Jaked seemed by his findings so far, none of his ramblings were what Dean and Cas might consider _useful_.

Dean cut him off. “But no fingerprints? You didn’t find anything suspicious, other than the armor itself?”

“Suspicious?” Jake asked. “What do you mean?”

“Unusual fluids,” Cas offered. “Foreign substances. Anything you wouldn’t expect to find on a suit of armor.”

Jake gave him a funny look for a second, but then shook his head. “Nothing yet. Aside from the handprints on the sword, we haven’t found a thing.”

Dean handed the guy one of his FBI business cards. “Could you give us a call if you do find anything?”

Jake looked over the card, and then with a quick nod he jammed it in the pocket of his coat. “Seriously, though, if you guys find out who made all this stuff, I might know a few folks who’d be interested in their work. Just saying.”

Dean smiled politely and nodded as Jake trundled off back to his lab to fawn over the armor some more. Cas leaned in and muttered in Dean’s ear, “I don’t think we should be luring more innocents into bargains with this particular blacksmith, regardless of the quality of his work.”

“Yeah, something tells me that would be a bad idea.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was nearing dinner time by the time Mary and Sam showed up at the motel Cas and Dean had checked into after leaving the police station. They’d driven out to Enid to talk to the appraiser and visit the storage company. The dealer who’d originally shown a great deal of interest in the collection now wanted nothing to do with it. He’d seemed skittish and didn’t have any good answers to their questions, and he’d been relieved when Mary admitted his concerns were understandable. Not everyone was interested in dealing in items with a gruesome history.

Dean had booked two adjoining rooms, and he and Cas had already made themselves comfortable in one of them. There wasn’t anything more they could do for the case until Ms. Jerome decided what to do with the pieces in the collection that weren’t currently evidence in two homicide investigations. They’d completed the _hurry up_ portion of the investigation, and now they were settling in for the _wait_.

In the mean time, Dean had the entire extended version of the Lord of the Rings loaded up and ready to play. Mary dropped her bag on her bed in the room next door and then came through the adjoining door to find Sam and Dean arguing about what to do for dinner.

“Fine, Sam. I don’t care where you get dinner, as long as they make a decent bacon cheeseburger,” Dean said, tossing a handful of takeout menus down on Sam’s lap and popping the cap off a beer as Cas voiced his agreement.

“Did I miss something?” Mary asked, looking between her sons and Cas, who was reclining comfortably on one of the beds.

Cas just shrugged, with the tiniest hint of a smile betraying his amusement. Dean caught caught it and rolled his eyes at Cas. The Fellowship of the Ring was all queued up to the main menu, giving their dinner debate a surreal and nearly comically dramatic background musical track.

“The only thing you’re missing is thirty years worth of arguments over what to have for dinner,” Cas replied as Sam shrugged into his coat.

“What do you want?” Sam asked Mary.

“I guess that cheeseburger sounds pretty good,” She replied.

Sam nodded. “You guys go ahead and start the movie. I’ve seen it a hundred times.”

As he turned toward the door Dean called out a reminder to bring him some pie. Sam just waved him off and left.

“He’s probably gonna be at least an hour,” Dean said as the door slammed shut. “He wants to drive halfway across town for some weird eggplant thing.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing he’s already seen this,” Mary replied, settling in and making herself comfortable, reclining against the headboard of Dean’s bed.

That left Dean standing awkwardly by the television with limited options on getting comfortable himself. He could pull one of the rickety chairs over from the table by the door and set it off to the side of the television. He wouldn’t have a great view; but like Sam, he’d seen this movie so many times he could practically recite the entire thing. The prospect of sitting in a straight-backed wooden chair for three and a half hours, though… his back hurt just thinking about it.

He could go sit next to Mary at the far side of his bed. He still wouldn’t be able to see very well, but he also could admit that he’d probably end up muttering half the lines out of habit, and it wasn’t really fair to subject Mary to that during her first ever viewing. It was bad enough she was seeing it for the first time on a crappy motel television set instead of a proper movie screen, but at least it was better than watching it on the laptop. No, he really only had one viable option.

Dean walked up between the beds and tapped at Cas’s stocking feet. “Scoot over, buddy.”

Cas smiled and complied. Dean sat down and then looked around for the clicker before remembering they’d hooked the laptop up to the TV to play the movie. He groaned and then slid back out of bed to manually hit play on the keyboard before dashing back and getting settled in his spot beside Cas. After a minute or so, Dean glanced over to see Cas still smiling at him, completely ignoring the movie.

“I thought you hadn’t seen this either,” Dean said quietly. He leaned in closer to Cas so he could practically whisper. “You gotta pay attention.”

Cas shrugged, still ignoring the screen. “Metatron saw it,” Cas replied.

“Not the same, Cas.”

Dean turned his attention to the film, occasionally glancing over at Mary to see her reactions. He was thrilled by her absolute delight and amazement every time. He also stole an occasional careful glance over at Cas. About half the time, Cas seemed to be doing the same with him. It made for a couple of awkward moments early on, but by the time the hobbits arrived in Bree and met up with Strider, Dean had gotten comfortable enough that he didn’t bother trying control himself anymore and began muttering commentary to Cas.

“I always thought Strider was pretty much me. You know, traveling all over the place, fake identities everywhere he goes. Everyone thinks he’s some kinda criminal, but really he’s out there fighting evil and chilling with elves.”

Mary glanced over at that and snorted, but she didn’t really disagree. Dean would’ve been content to let it lie at that, but Cas had to have a say in the matter, too. He studied Dean curiously for a moment and then grinned.

“Does that that make me one of the elves in this metaphor?”

Mary laughed. “I think it does.”

Dean squirmed and tried to ignore them both, muttering under his breath, “All right, all right, it’s not all that hilarious.”

Cas got serious then, as the characters on screen settled into their room.

“Aragorn was also far older and wiser than he appeared, and had suffered the loss of his parents early in life. He was a brilliant leader who needed to discover that fact for himself. He doubted himself and his worthiness, but proved his worth again and again. He chose his battles wisely, often standing up for his friends when no one else would or could. He looked evil in the face many times and overcame it by sheer force of will. He wasn’t just born to lead his people, even if it was always his destiny to do so. He earned the right by truly becoming the leader his people needed, in every respect, despite his faults and his doubts and his fears.”

Cas finished his little declaration just as the Nazgul attacked the hobbits’ empty beds, and then the scene shifted to Aragorn watching over the hobbits sleep, safe and sound, in another room. He looked over at Dean’s stunned face, but there was nothing but absolute sincerity on Cas’s.

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times, about to ask something ridiculous, like, “You really think that about me?” He didn’t need to ask. Cas was staring him down, almost _daring_ him to try and brush it off so he would have an excuse to drive the point home even more. Dean’s face flushed hot and red, and yet he still refused to break eye contact with Cas. The strained silence stretched out for the next few minutes until Dean remembered that Mary was sitting just a few feet away and probably heard everything Cas had said as well. He finally gave Cas a slow accepting nod, took a deep breath, and turned his eyes back to the screen.

Sam returned with their food right as the Nazgul attacked the hobbits at their camp on Weathertop. Mary was mesmerized by the special effects, gasping at the ghostly true faces of the ancient kings. Rather than pause the movie, Sam carefully and quietly handed out all their food before dragging the table toward the foot of Mary’s bed so he could watch while he sat at the edge of the bed and ate.

Dean was enjoying his burger until Arwen showed up to heal Frodo of his wounds. She began chanting and glowing, and Sam turned from his freaky vegetable wrap thing to glance back at Cas.

“This scene always reminds me of you when you get your mojo on,” he said, and Dean practically choked on his sandwich.

A pinched sort of frown took over Sam’s face, and Cas patted Dean’s back until his breathing returned to normal. Dean focused on Cas long enough to be sure that Sam’s comment hadn’t upset him, but Cas only seemed to be concerned about _him_ , which made it even worse. Dean glared over at Sam, who looked contrite for the reminder of what Cas had so recently sacrificed.

“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean…” Sam started, and then changed tack. “I mean, she chose humanity in the end too, you know? This badass ancient warrior gives up that life for humanity and love. She just reminds me of you.”

If Dean had had anything in his mouth, he would’ve surely choked again. He heard Mary make a strangled choking noise off to his left, but when he turned to make sure she was okay he realized she was _laughing._ At _him_.

Dean turned to Cas for support, but he was calmly eating his burger and pointedly watching Arwen evade all nine Nazgul on horseback.

“What? Did I miss something?” Sam asked.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. If he just shut up and focused on the movie and ate the rest of his dinner, maybe this awkward nightmare would pass. He should’ve known better.

“You only missed the epic comparison between Dean and Aragorn,” Mary informed Sam. “It was really quite touching. And accurate.”

Dean aggressively took another bite of his burger and glared at the screen. It was no use. He tossed the remainder of his sandwich back in the bag. Maybe he’d have an appetite again later.

“Oh,” Sam replied, looking back and forth between Dean and Cas. Dean was still flushed scarlet, and even Cas looked more uncomfortable than he usually did. “Ohhh…”

Sam finally realized what he’d accidentally implied, and mercifully turned back to his dinner. Not even Mary added any commentary. Dean was cautiously trying to catch glimpses of Cas. He wasn’t sure if Cas would be upset with the implications of their comparison, and he was half terrified of finding out. He didn’t think there was any way the reference would’ve escaped Cas. It had been his idea to use the actors names as their aliases on this case in the first place. There was no way Cas could’ve been oblivious to what had Sam and Mary suddenly acting so strange.

And hell if Dean’s heart wasn’t pounding in his chest. It had nothing to do with the tense action on screen as Arwen stopped her horse in the middle of a river and turned to face the enemy pursuing her. Dean couldn’t bear the thought of Cas being angry or offended, or even just _indifferent_ to the suggestion that there could be something more romantic between them. His need to know outweighed the potential risk, so he finally turned and looked at his friend.

Cas had put his burger down too and was staring right back at him with the same mix of worry and hope pasted across his face. On screen, Arwen called down a raging flood, the whitewater peaks rearing up like wild horses to drive the Nazgul and their steeds downriver as she rode off to safety. Neither Dean nor Cas even noticed.

Dean wasn’t sure how long they sat there staring at each other, or even how long they would’ve kept staring if his phone hadn’t started ringing. Sam got up to pause the movie and Dean blinked a few times before Cas finally smiled, as if to say they could continue whatever it was they’d been doing later. Dean checked the caller ID and cleared his throat.

Jake the crime lab tech had finally finished re-articulating the suit of armor, and aside from some sweat and skin cells on the gauntlet that had been wrapped around Robert Pinsky’s neck, there was no evidence that the suit had ever even been touched by human hands.

“Whoever set it up probably wore gloves,” Jake suggested. “Oh, and the official cause of death is manual strangulation. The whack on his head just knocked him out.”

“Any idea if the hands that strangled him were…“ Dean started, before Jake cut in again.

“Adult sized? No idea. The marks on his neck suggest the killer used Sauron’s gauntlet to do the deed. It’s impossible to tell if someone with really tiny hands just wrapped it around his neck and pressed, or if a normal-sized hand wore the glove to choke him.”

“Huh,” Dean replied. “So how long do you think it would take for someone to knock him out, strangle him to death, and then get the armor set up over him like it was in the crime scene photos?”

“Honestly?” Jake said, and then sighed. “I tried to recreate that pose for over an hour, and I couldn’t do it. Every time you move one piece, something else wiggles loose and slides out of position. I had a couple officers come in to help, and three of us working together were able to do it, but it took a lot of coordination and about ten minutes. Made a hell of a racket, too.”

“Ms. Jerome said she heard a loud crash,” Dean said, even while he shared a significant look with Mary, Sam, and Cas.

“Not like this,” Jake said. “Like a dozen raccoons waging war in an alley full of empty garbage cans. For a hour.”

“Well, that’s vivid.”  
“I thought so,” Jake replied, sounding pleased with himself. “I’ll call if we find anything else, but I don’t know what to tell you. Unless all your witnesses were temporarily abducted by aliens and are missing at least twenty minutes of their lives, I got no better explanation for what happened.”

“Yeah,” Dean choked out with a half-terrified glance up at Sam, who looked equally distressed, “Let’s hope it’s not little green men. Thanks Jake.”

Dean hung up and swallowed hard.

“Don’t tell me aliens are real,” Mary said, glancing back and forth between her sons.

“I kinda wish they were,” Sam replied. “Last time we had an alien abduction case, it turned out to be faeries.”

“Faeries,” Mary said, sounding equally skeptical. “You’re telling me _faeries_ are real?”

Sam shrugged uncomfortably, and Dean nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“There’s many different realms of faerie,” Cas added, trying to reassure Sam and Dean. “It’s possible that the creatures responsible for these deaths aren’t even related to the ones you dealt with before.”

“We took care of them once, we could do it again,” Dean said. “Long as they’re not flying monkeys, we’re good.”

“Flying monkeys?” Mary asked. “Like from the Wizard of Oz?”

“More like straight from Oz,” Sam said. “It’s just another faerie realm.”

“And the wizard was a dick,” Dean said. “Dorothy was all right though.”

That’s as far as he got before he had to stop and take a deep breath. That was twice in one day this case had made him think of Charlie. Cas had clearly followed along Dean’s train of thought even after he’d checked himself and shut his mouth, and he laid one comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean appreciated it and leaned slightly into his touch in thanks.

“So if it’s faeries, how do we stop them?” Mary asked.

“First you gotta be able to see them,” Sam replied, looking critically between Dean and Cas.

Cas sighed and let his hand slip slowly down Dean’s back. “I don’t know if I’ll still be able to see them without my grace. I can still recognize demons and angels that aren’t trying to disguise themselves, but if they choose to be invisible, it’s likely I won’t be able to see faeries.”

“But you’ll see them, right Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged uncomfortably, and Cas withdrew his hand entirely. “If they’re from Oberon’s court, it’s possible,” he finally said, pointing an accusatory finger at Sam. “Shut it about what the tiny teacups lady said.”

“I wasn’t about to suggest you serviced Oberon, king of the faeries,” Sam said, his hands raised defensively as he fought not to grin.

“They were taking first-born sons,” Dean said, ignoring Sam as best he could and trying to explain to Mary, who looked utterly confused at that point. “I got snatched out of a corn field and hauled off to fairyland. I don’t think they liked me shooting up their palace, so they booted me back to Earth.”

“But ever since then, Dean can see them even when they’re trying to be invisible,” Sam added.

“Yeah, neat trick, except most of ‘em just look like people,” Dean said. “I can’t tell if they’re faeries unless they’re six inches tall with Tinkerbell wings.”

“Or maybe something about the size of your average kindergartner,” Sam replied.

That got Cas’s attention, and he suddenly turned to Dean. “At the station earlier, you said the handprints on the sword were visible before they dusted for them.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, so?”

“I couldn’t see them,” Cas replied.

Dean just blinked at him a few times and then turned to see Mary and Sam both staring at him. Mary reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, loading up a picture of the crime scene photo of the sword and handing it over to Dean.

“What do you see?” she asked him.

Dean enlarged the picture, zooming in on two small ashy handprints, clear as day, and handed the phone back. “You don’t see those?”

“I see a wooden sword hilt inlaid with gold leaves,” Mary said, handing the phone to Sam.

“Sorry, Dean,” he agreed, and handed the phone to Cas.

Cas studied the image closely and then leaned into Dean so they could both see the screen together. “I can see that there’s an anomaly here and here,” he said, pointing out the two places where Dean could easily see the prints. “But it’s not clear. It’s like looking through a distorting lens.”

“Huh, I wonder if those holy fire glasses would work for this,” Dean said.

“It’s possible,” Cas replied. “They work on demons and hellhounds. It could be worth a try.”

“But what do you see, Dean?” Mary asked again. “What does it look like to you?”

“Like some kid dragged his hands through dust before putting his grubby hands on it. Here,” Dean said, advancing to the next photo and zooming in on the same section of the hilt with the handprints highlighted with red fingerprint powder. “Looks exactly like that, but grey instead of red.”

“Huh,” Mary said.

Cas’s hand found its way to Dean’s back again while Mary studied the picture on her phone.

“So if it is faeries, they’d be invisible to us, and Dean wouldn’t even know he wasn’t looking at a regular person. So how’re we gonna hunt this thing down?” Sam asked.

“Same way we hunt anything down,” Dean offered.

Just then, Sam’s phone rang. He looked down at the caller ID, and then Dean’s phone rang as well.

“It’s Officer Kandinsky from the crime scene,” Sam said to Mary.

“And this is Detective Bynum,” Dean said, holding up his phone. “Guess we just had to wait for the hunt to come to us.”

As they each answered their respective phones, Dean got up to turn off the television.  It looked like their wait for a break in the case was over. It was time to hurry up again.


	4. Chapter 4

Officer Kandinsky had called from the hospital, so Sam and Mary rushed over to meet him, and to interview the latest victim of whatever faerie or other had been living out their Lord of the Rings LARPing fantasies in small-town Oklahoma. At least this victim had survived to _be_ interviewed. Mary reminded them all that things could definitely be worse when Dean and Cas left to head back to the police station to meet up with Detective Bynum again. Only this time, the police station was pulling double duty as a crime scene.

They hadn’t wasted any time bothering with their fed suits. It was after nine o’clock at night and they’d thought it more urgent to be on the scene than to worry about looking professional. They’d already made their first impression on Detective Bynum.

Dean came through the front door of the station first and was immediately recognized by one of the uniformed officers bustling around the front desk. The entire station seemed to be in an uproar, which wasn’t unexpected considering what had happened there less than half an hour ago.

“Agents. Detective Bynum is waiting for you back in the storage room,” the officer said, pointing the way down the hall Dean and Cas had traversed that afternoon.

Dean thanked her and Cas nodded politely before hurrying off to what was now an active crime scene. The doorway outside the evidence storage room was crowded with officers trying to get a peek at the proceedings inside. Dean shouldered his way through the crowd, reaching back to pull Cas by the sleeve in his wake.

Once inside, they took in the wreck of the formerly meticulously organized collection of armaments. Bows and bits of armor lay scattered around the room, while arrows stuck out from boxes of evidence stacked on the shelves lining the walls. A small pile of swords and knives sat in one corner of the floor like a mockery of a campfire waiting to be lit, while other blades had been driven through the concrete block walls, a steel examination table, and the reinforced steel door.

Dean reached up but stopped himself from actually touching the blade protruding from the door. He turned to look at Cas. “Now that’s a knife,” he said, and Cas just frowned but nodded in agreement.

A photographer moved around the edges of the room taking pictures from every possible angle while a crime scene tech set out numbered placards by every displaced piece of evidence in the room. Detective Bynum stood just inside the door surveying their work, making sure they didn’t miss anything important or disturb any potential evidence as they worked in the cramped space. He glanced up when Dean had spoken, but kept one eye on the room as he greeted Dean and Cas.

“Thanks for coming so fast, agents. This is just…” Bynum shook his head and glared at the floor, at a loss for words.

Dean and Cas followed his line of sight to a large pool of blood around the side of one of the long metal tables they’d stood around that afternoon.

“It’s a violation,” Cas said quietly, and Bynum nodded in agreement.

Dean scanned the rest of the room and almost immediately spotted something he was pretty sure nobody else could see. Now, how to point it out without sounding insane?

“Can you get the techs to give it a rest for a second? Maybe clear the room?” Dean asked, and Cas shot him a pinched look before squinting more carefully over the room and sucking in a shocked gasp.

Bynum looked at them both skeptically, considering the request. Dean gave him a little extra nudge.

“Please? I think there’s something here we’re not noticing. A pattern. It could be important.”

Bynum sighed and nodded. “Adams. Sanders. Take five. The agents wanna check something out. Then you can get back to it.”

Adams, the photographer, shrugged and said she’d photographed everything already anyway, and moved to leave the room while double-checking the images she’d captured with her camera. Dean stopped her before she crossed the threshold and asked her to remove the protective paper booties from her shoes. She looked at him like he was nuts.

“Humor me,” he said, holding out a hand for the booties.

She reached down and pulled them off one at a time, and Dean took them from her gingerly, pinching them by the heel and holding them out away from himself. He didn’t doubt he was the only one who could tell they were smeared with blood. Faerie blood.

Sanders didn’t even have to be asked. He handed over his wadded up bloodstained booties as he headed out of the room in a huff. Dean made a face at the disgusting mess in his left hand, desperately scanning the room for the nearest trash can. Either Cas could see some sort of anomaly on the booties or he’d simply figured out what the problem was, and grabbed a handful of paper towels out of a dispenser on the wall above a small sink and handed them to Dean. It was the best they could do under the circumstances.

Dean tossed the booties out and surreptitiously wiped as much of the invisible blood from his hands as he could without looking like some sort of germ freak. What the techs didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Hopefully. Too bad that hadn’t been true for Jake.

Dean turned back to Bynum, trying not to think about faerie blood still staining his hand. “So what happened here?”

“Jake had finished with the suit of armor. Had it all trussed up on the cart he usually hangs a model skeleton from in his office, and wheeled it in here for the night.” He pointed over to the far side of the large metal examining table where a tall hook on wheels had been knocked over and pieces of Sauron’s armor lay in a heap. “He says he put it in the corner there, and when he turned around a…”

Bynum stopped and just shook his head for a minute, surveying the destruction again in utter disbelief.

“What did he say?” Dean pushed. “Trust me, we’ve heard everything. Nothing surprises us anymore.”

“He said it was a hobbit,” Bynum admitted. “A hobbit with a sword. Or, well, a knife, I suppose.”

He pointed out the knife in question, lying by the second pool of blood that only Dean could see. The pool of blood that both the photographer and the tech had tracked around most of the rest of the room before Dean had asked them to leave. It was a freaking horror show.

The knife was one of the pair that Dean had twirled around like an angel blade that afternoon, and the twin of the one currently impaled through the steel door.  Dean slipped on a clean pair of booties from a dispenser over the sink and picked his way between smeared bloody footprints to get a closer look at the blade. Bynum side-eyed his inexplicable-- to Bynum, anyway-- dance across the floor until Cas distracted him.

“And Jake picked up one of the weapons to defend himself?” Cas prompted.

Dean pointed under the exam table from where he was crouched on the floor inspecting the secondary blood pool. “Glamdring,” he said, turning to glance at Cas. “Gandalf’s sword.”

“How can you tell?” Bynum asked, looking over the assortment of possible weapons strewn about the area that Jake could’ve used. “I mean, that’s what Jake told me, but how the hell could you know that?”

Dean grimaced up at Cas, who sighed and offered up a grim smile of understanding, knowing Dean could see the blade dripping with blood. “This is what we do, detective. Dean is excellent at his job.”

“Huh,” Bynum replied, watching Dean more closely now. “Jake said he got the sword up in time to block the first strike, when a second… hobbit thing… started throwing shit around. It started firing arrows at him and the one with the knife got a whack in while he was trying to take cover. He swears he got at least one blow in on the… thing… before he passed out from shock, but... “ Bynum waved his hand around the room. “No dead hobbit. Not even a hobbit blood trail to follow. Just the disaster of an evidence room to sort through.”

“Is anything missing?” Cas asked, while Dean rolled his eyes at Bynum’s inability to see the disgusting trail of hobbit blood.

Bynum shrugged. “No idea. We got a long list of stuff to sort through.”

Dean stood up and looked around. “Sauron’s right gauntlet’s gone,” he said. “So’s Legolas’ bow and Gimli’s axe.”

“The gauntlet’s still in the lab,” Bynum confirmed. “With the two swords involved in the Jerome murder.”

Dean crept back to Cas’s side and dropped his used booties in the trash before thoroughly washing his hands.

“Nobody saw anyone go in or out?” Dean asked.

Bynum shook his head. “Half these folks came in after the call went out over the radio. The only folks that were in the station at the time weren’t even in this part of the building. Sanders was in the lab, so he was closest and heard the ruckus. By the time he got here, Jake was on the floor and whoever did this had fled. Adams already checked the security camera footage, and there was nothing there.  Just Jake wheeling the cart into the lockup. There was some kinda short in the system and the footage from the fight itself is glitchy. Adams is trying to see if she can salvage it, but she wasn’t hopeful.”

“Glitchy?” Dean asked, suddenly feeling hopeful that they may have caught their rogue hobbits on tape and everyone else just couldn’t see them. “You mind if I take a look at it?”

Bynum shrugged and held a hand out to point the way to Adams’s desk.

“Just show us what you got, starting a minute or so before Jake goes through the door,” Dean said, pulling up a chair beside Adams while Cas braced himself with one hand on Dean’s shoulder and leaned in between them.

“Sir?” Adams said, glancing up at her boss. “There’s nothing to see yet. There’s no point.”

Bynum waved his hand as if to say _just humor the Feds_. Adams rolled her eyes, but complied.

Dean tensed the moment he saw the-- for lack of a better word-- _hobbits_ creep into the evidence room on Jake’s heels. He knew that Cas could at least pick up some sense of their presence when he felt Cas huff out a surprised breath next to his ear.

As the video played, Dean had no idea what the “glitch” looked like to the rest of them, but to him it just looked like one of the hobbit creatures began to glow as bright as a road flare. The other one was still perfectly visible to Dean, not glowing anywhere near as bright as his partner, flinging weapons around and shooting off arrows willy-nilly before snatching up the axe and making a run for it. The creature that had attacked Jake had taken a nasty slash to the side and had slumped down on the floor, the weird glow fading as it healed itself and made itself invisible to regular eyes. By the time Sanders rushed in and saw what had happened, the creature was back on its feet and out the door.

“I can give you a call if I recover anything useful,” Adams said, breaking the tense silence between Dean and Cas.

Dean cleared his throat and stood up. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Do that.”

He tossed one of his business cards on Adams’s desk and glanced at Cas before turning to Bynum again.

“Hell of a thing,” Bynum said, shaking his head and watching the replay of the video and the screenshot Adams was currently trying to unfuck. Dean mentally wished her luck. He was pretty sure Photoshop didn’t have an anti-faerie-magic filter.

“That it is,” Dean agreed.

“We’re gonna sort through that mess, do a full inventory and see if anything else is gone. Meantime, I’m headed over to the hospital to check on Jake.”

“How is he?” Cas asked.

“Last I heard, pretty shaken up, but he’s gonna pull through,” Bynum said. “He’s a tough kid. Told the paramedic he’d had worse at those LARP things he goes to. Doubt he ever got stabbed in the gut there. Broke his arm last summer at their big battle of the kingdoms or whatever.” Bynum cleared his throat and offered Dean and Cas a weak little smile. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow, I guess. Thanks again for coming out.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Dean replied.

They followed Detective Bynum out of the station and watched him drive off to the hospital. Dean stood in the parking lot and sent a text to Sam confirming it was two faeries who’d done the deed. When Sam texted back _what kind of faeries_ , Dean simply answered _Merry and Pippin_.


	5. Chapter 5

Mary and Sam had finished interviewing Jake by the time Cas and Dean returned to the Impala. Dean sat behind the wheel in the police station parking lot reading through Mary’s text message account. Jake’s description of his attacker lined up exactly with what Dean had seen on the video. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and sighed.

“What’d the glitch look like to you?” he asked Cas before opening his eyes and sitting up again. “And the crime scene. Could you see all the blood?”

Cas shook his head. “I didn’t notice it at first, but after seeing your reaction, I looked more closely expecting to see something. The bloodstains were easier to spot than the handprints on the sword, but they appeared to me like a faint… shimmer. I wouldn’t have noticed it had I not known to look for it.”

Dean nodded, reaching over to pat Cas’s hand reassuringly. Cas was visibly frustrated, and Dean understood. A month ago when he’d still had his grace, Cas probably could’ve identified the faeries by the blood stains. Hell, he’d probably have been better at Dean at spotting any fae suspects in town. They just looked like regular people to Dean, but they probably glowed purple or some shit to Cas’s angel vision. The last thing Dean wanted to do was push Cas into feeling even more frustrated with his lack of supernatural powers, but Cas clearly saw something that the regular old humans who’d never been angels hadn’t been able to see, and if Dean was right that was going to prove very useful.

“And the glitch?”

Cas sighed and looked right at Dean. “At first, again, knowing to look for it, I saw two small, hazy humanoid forms enter the room behind Jake. One followed him to the far corner of the room while the other remained by the weapons tables. The one closest to Jake exuded some sort of golden light, while the other remained hazy until it picked up the bow, and then began to glow brighter.”

“But you could see them moving the weapons around and stuff, right?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded. “I tried to watch without the expectation of seeing anything for a few moments, relaxed my focus, and the entire screen… flared brightly. I couldn’t make out anything. I believe that’s all the regular humans could sense.”

“Like a full-screen lens flare,” Dean mused. “I think we can work with this.”

“How do you mean?” Cas asked.

“I mean, you can tell when you’re looking at a faerie, Cas. I can’t tell them apart from humans, but you can. Between the two of us we can see ‘em and identify ‘em.”

Dean’s phone chirped again. Sam and Mary were headed back to the motel. They had no leads on where their hobbit assassins would strike next, aside from maybe sneaking back in to the police station to steal more of the weapons. With most of the Stillwater police force now on the scene, they likely wouldn’t try again for at least another few hours.

“We should probably head back to the room for a little shuteye,” Dean suggested. “Wait until we hear back if anything else was taken, since we got zero in the way of leads on where to start looking for faeries in this town.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Cas replied, casting a forlorn glance back at the station through the rear window as Dean was about to start the car. Cas’s hand shot out and stopped Dean from putting the key in the ignition.

“What is it, Cas?”

When he didn’t reply immediately, Dean turned in his seat to see what Cas was staring at. What he saw had Dean doing a double take. He was pretty sure his heart actually stopped for a few seconds when he saw the cloaked figure frozen on the sidewalk leading up to the building. If the cloak wasn’t enough of a giveaway that the person wearing it might not be your average citizen, a good look at her hair and face certainly was.

“Charlie?” Dean muttered, and then sprang into action.

The figure dithered for a moment, staring right at the car, and then made a decision to run for it.

“Wait, Dean…” Cas tried to grab at his wrist as Dean whipped around, opened the door and took off running after the figure. Cas slid out after him and shut the door before racing after Dean.

“Charlie, wait!” Dean said, catching up to her and grabbing her arm.

“What’s up, bitches?” Charlie said, laughing nervously and glancing around as if afraid that they were being watched. She closed her eyes for a second and Dean felt a cool rippling sensation wash through his hand. When she reopened her eyes she’d obviously made herself fully visible to Cas, as well. He came to a startled stop before her and gasped.

“Charlie? It _is_ you. How can that be?” Cas said.

“Yeah, hi. So, um… Not dead.” She said, waving one hand up toward her face. “Surprise?”

“Charlie,” Dean repeated again, too stunned to say anything more. He should’ve hugged her, or yelled at her, or tested her to make sure she was real. Or maybe he should’ve just stood there gawping. That last option was the most doable, so that’s what he went with.

“I guess I got some ‘splainin to do. Move now, joyful family reunion later.”

Dean swallowed hard and nodded. Charlie caught him by the elbow and steered him back toward the Impala. She grabbed Cas’s hand and pulled him along as well.

“Probably best not to have this chat at the police station.”

Dean got himself moving under his own power, casting a disbelieving stare between Charlie and Cas, who looked exactly as dumbfounded as Dean felt.

Charlie slid into the back seat while Dean and Cas exchanged a confused but silent back and forth across the roof of the car before climbing in front.

“Well, let’s get out of here,” Charlie prompted, slapping Dean on the shoulder. “I assume you guys have a room at some sketchy motel nearby.”

“How are you alive?” Dean asked, turning around in his seat to stare at her again. “We gave you a hunter’s funeral.”

“I appreciate the effort,” Charlie said, not meeting his eyes but fidgeting and staring out the windows in every direction like she was expecting to be caught out by some secret stalker. “But that was a simulacrum. Glamour. Sorry about that. I’ll apologize properly for everything once we get out of here, though. I don’t want the A’s to know I’m onto them.”

“The A’s?” Cas asked.

“Would they happen to be about hobbit sized and shaped?” Dean asked, but he’d already given in and started the car. He turned to back out of the parking spot and made sure Charlie knew he was glaring at her. “With a more chaotic evil bent to them?”

“How’d you guess?”

“I saw ‘em.”

“ _You_ saw them,” Charlie replied skeptically as Dean turned around, shifted into drive, and peeled out of the parking lot. “I mean, I figured Cas might be able to, what with the whole mojo deal and all, but you, Dean?”

“Dean can see the fae,” Cas replied. “And since I’m no longer an angel, I can’t.”

“Your elf eyes saw Charlie, though,” Dean reminded him, as Charlie made a choking sound and stared at Cas.

“Not an angel? Um… how does that happen?”

Cas considered that for a moment, and then with an apologetic glance back at Charlie he decided to address Dean’s comment instead. “I had no idea I was looking at Charlie until you said so, but I suppose you’re right.”

“‘Course I am,” Dean replied grinning at him for a moment before glaring back up at Charlie in the rear view mirror. “Still don’t explain how you’re alive, and why you’d let us think you were dead for over a year.”

She spared another glance at Cas, but he waved her off. She could get his story out of him later.

“It started out as the faerie version of Witness Protection. Gilda owed me a favor, and she took me to the Hollow Forest. Picked me up at that motel and left a convincing but disposable duplicate to fight the Stynes. If they thought I was dead, I’d just need to lay low for a bit and then come back with a new identity. But then _someone_ unleashed the primordial Darkness, and the faerie realms decided it was best to seal themselves off from this universe until all that blew over. They only reopened the doors a few weeks ago.”

“So you’ve been trapped in faeryland for over a year?” Dean asked.

Charlie shrugged. “It was more like an extended vacation then being trapped. It was also more like seven years. Who knew faerie years are like dog years? A girl can learn a lot in that much time.”

“Like how to hunt down faerie assassins?” Cas replied, turning to grin at Charlie.

“I prefer to think of myself as an ambassador. I had to make myself useful to Arkhmoor in exchange for their hospitality. And when the doors reopened, I was in a unique position to help take care of rogue fae out in the human world.”

“Yet you didn’t think to maybe let us know you were alive,” Dean replied.

“I was getting around to it,” Charlie said. “It’s not like Hallmark makes a card for that. Plus I’ve only been back since the day before yesterday, when someone noticed the A’s had gotten loose.”

“Who are these A’s anyway?”

“Abelard and Adelbert,” Charlie said.

Dean snorted. “No wonder they’re hostile.”

“Shut up,” Charlie replied. “Where they come from, Dean would be a stupid sounding name.”

“As least you can pronounce Dean without hurting yourself,” Dean grumbled.

Cas patted Dean’s shoulder reassuringly, but steered the conversation back to the important facts. “But who are they, and why are they killing people?”

“Their brother made those weapons, that entire Lord of the Rings collection. And then he decided to abandon Faerie to live as a mortal.”

“What’s his name?” Dean asked sarcastically. “Engelbert?”

“Berthold,” Charlie replied coarsely before turning melancholy. “He died while the doors to Faerie were sealed. The A’s were just trying to collect their brother’s belongings.”

“So, wait, you’re saying that this Bert dude was the one who gave the whole collection to Linda Jerome in the first place?” Dean asked. “Wonder if she knew she was painting a faerie assassin target on herself when she accepted it.”

Charlie shrugged as Dean pulled into the motel parking lot.

“I haven’t had a chance to talk with her yet. There’s official procedures we need to follow when dealing with widows. Even human widows.”

“Widow?” Cas asked, the lightbulb going off as he glanced over at Dean and then turned fully to face Charlie. “She’s the one Berthold abandoned his immortality for.”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. He’d been with her for nearly ten years. He died in a car accident about nine months ago, and Linda moved back in with her father. He’s been hounding her to get rid of the entire collection ever since. Apparently he thought it was time for her to move on.”

“How come this is the first we’re hearing that she was married?” Dean asked, getting out of the car. “Sammy did a full background check on her.”

“They were married in Arkhmoor,” Charlie replied, following Dean and Cas up the stairs to their room. “No paperwork in the system for him here, since he was about three thousand years old, and not human.”

“Sounds familiar, eh buddy?” Dean said, elbowing Cas when he stopped to open the door to their room.

“I’m far older than three thousand years. Plus I have paperwork,” Cas replied. “I have a driver’s license.”

“Don’t know how official it is, considering Sammy made it at Kinkos, but you’re official in my book and that’s what counts,” Dean replied, grinning at him.

Cas snorted and gave Dean a little shove toward the room. Charlie watched the two of them, smiling at their antics, and followed behind them.

“Hey, guys,” Dean shouted through the door adjoining Sam and Mary’s room. “We got company.”

Sam poked his head into the room first, glancing around until he saw Charlie. His eyes went wide as the glitter glue lady’s tiny saucers. After gawping at Dean and getting a reassuring nod in return, Sam took three large steps to clasp her in a crushing hug.

“Oh my god, Charlie! We thought you were dead!”

“So I heard,” she replied, her words muffled against Sam’s shoulder. “Might be actually dead soon if I can’t breathe…”

Sam let her go with an apologetic nod, only for Dean to take a turn trying to squish the life out of her. Cas tapped him on the shoulder to cut in a moment later and took his turn. Mary watched this strange little reunion from the doorway until Dean noticed her out the corner of his eye and waved her over.

“Charlie, speaking of people we thought were dead, you should probably meet our mom.”

Cas let her go and Charlie looked from Dean to Mary and then back to Dean as that little revelation sunk in.

“Mom, this is our adopted little sister, Charlie,” Sam said. “We thought she was dead, too, but…” Sam realized he had no idea how to finish that sentence, and instead just waved a hand at her and shot Dean a puzzled look. “I guess she’s not?”

“Remember Gilda?” Charlie said with a smirk.

Sam had to think for a moment, and his eyebrows made a mad yet fruitless dash up his forehead, seeking  the unreachable sanctuary of his hairline. “Faerie? You’ve been in Avalon all this time?”

“Arkhmoor, not Avalon, but close enough.” Charlie shrugged. The rest of her story could wait for now. There were far more pressing matters to be sorted through than her comparatively short bout with presumed death. “One thing I know for sure is that your mom _hasn’t_ been in a faerie realm all this time. That’s the sort of news that would’ve gotten around.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck before looking from Mary back to Charlie again. “Turns out the Darkness was God’s sister. The two of them just needed a little family therapy, and Amara decided to pay the tab by resurrecting mom, here.”

Charlie just stared at Dean for a minute, and then blinked. “God has a sister? And what, you sat the two of them down on a couch and had them talk about their feelings?”

“We were standing in a garden. No couch. But yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

“Way to undersell the entire last year of our lives, Dean,” Sam replied, his happiness at seeing Charlie alive after all this time threatening to bubble over into giddiness. “You left out the zombie fogs, Amara powering down the sun, and God making us pancakes.”

“Dude, I do not wanna think about what Chuck did in my kitchen, thanks. Or worse, in my _robe_.”

“Wait,” Charlie cut in. “Chuck? Like, Chuck in the books? Carver Edlund? He really is God?”

“You knew?” Dean replied, goggling at her. “How the hell could you know that?”

Charlie shrugged. “I didn’t. Not really. It was just one of the wilder theories that went around some of the fan sites back in the day.” Her eyes went wide again. “He really made you pancakes? Were they any good?”

Dean rolled his eyes and crossed the room to sit down at the foot of his bed.  Or maybe it was Cas’s bed. They’d both been lying there watching the movie before they’d been called back to reality. It’s not like either one of them had called dibs on permanent residency or anything. Dean was allowed to sit down in his own motel room, dammit.

“Worst roommate ever,” Dean said, waving a hand to dismiss any more talk about Chuck for now.

He also needed to silence the persistent voice in his head that couldn’t drag itself back to the important matter of Charlie’s return, and instead insisted on thinking about sharing that bed with Cas again. He glanced up at Cas only to find him staring curiously back. Dean’s train of thought derailed entirely for a second or two, then he noticed Charlie grinning between him and Cas like she’d been stricken by some sort of divine revelation herself. He shook himself and shrugged apologetically at Cas, then tried to redirect the conversation back to their most pressing concerns.

“So these two hobbits you’re after…” Dean started.

“Adelbert and Abelard,” Charlie reminded him.

“Whatever.”

“Why do you think I call them the A’s?” Charlie said, grinning at him as she sat at the foot of the other bed.

“Wait,” Sam interrupted, pulling over one of the chairs to sit by Charlie. “You’re after our killer faeries, too?”

Charlie caught Mary and Sam up to Dean and Cas. While she talked, Mary leaned against the dresser and Cas inched his way over to sit beside Dean. Charlie had tracked his movement but didn’t let it interrupt her story.

“So I left them a message at the police station ordering them to give me three days to settle their claim to their brother’s life work.”

“Won’t the police find your message?” Mary asked, and then a strange look crossed her face. “Wait, you can order faeries around?”

“Not me, technically,” Charlie clarified. “Gilda’s mom wrote the order. She’s their queen, and if the A’s ever want to go back to Arkhmoor, they’ll follow her orders. And unless they’re fae or have visited one of the faerie realms like Dean here, the message won’t be visible to anyone else.”

Mary had whipped around to gawp at Dean for a second at Charlie’s revelation, and she nodded absently at the rest of her explanation. Dean grimaced, hoping he could put off recounting his little trip to Oberon’s court for his mother. At least Sam still had his mind in the game.

“Why were they killing people in the first place?” Sam asked. “I mean, I get they wanted their brother’s stuff back, but Linda seemed like a pretty reasonable person. She told us she was only holding the collection for a friend of hers… I guess she meant her husband…”

“Yeah, she seemed like she was expecting someone to show up and take it off her hands,” Mary added. “Berthold had to know that the door to faerie had been sealed, right? Even if he didn’t know why, I’m assuming he kept in touch before…”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. He still came for regular visits before the Darkness fell. I actually met him a few times before that. He’d agreed to keep an ear out for information on the Stynes for me. Which is why I need to meet with Linda. I tried to get a message out to Bert when the gates were closing, explaining why he wouldn’t be able to come back, but I have no idea if he ever got it.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about the Stynes, at least,” Dean said, shifting uncomfortably.

Cas slid one hand from his lap to rest on the side of Dean’s thigh to ease his restlessness. Without thinking twice, Dean set his hand down atop Castiel’s and gave it a little squeeze.

“I took care of them.”

“You… all of them?” Charlie said. “You’re sure?”

Dean nodded. “Sammy was right. The Mark needed to go. After your funer-- after that…  I drove down to their compound and cleaned house. Let’s leave it at that.”

Charlie blinked at him a few times, blank faced. “I don’t know whether to be honored that you avenged my untimely murder, or freaking terrified that you single-handedly took down an army of superhuman soldiers.”

“I’m just glad to be back on handmaiden duties instead of vengeance quests,” Dean replied with a smirk. “So if Linda’s cool with you dragging her dead faerie husband’s stuff back to the motherland, I guess you’re gonna need help hauling it all.”

Charlie shrugged. “Probably the first hunt you’ve ever resolved by renting a U-Haul. That’s gotta be something.”

“Well, actually... “ Sam replied. “There was that antique store with all the cursed objects. We needed a U-Haul for that one, too.”

Charlie pouted. “I guess after God’s used your secret underground lair as an Airbnb you’ve probably already run the gamut of weird. I shouldn’t even bother trying at this point.”

“We’re still waiting on a genuine alien,” Dean suggested.

“Technically I could be considered an alien,” Cas replied. “I was created before the Earth was. I am not of this world.”

Since Cas had become human again, Dean found it even harder to remember that Cas was ever anything other than the nerdy little middle-aged dude sitting next to him.

“Sometimes I think you’re more human than I am, Cas. Don’t sell yourself short,” Dean replied with a grin.

Cas just beamed back at him.

Charlie cleared her throat, and Dean whipped around like he’d been stung. His cheeks were a little flushed, but he tried to cover the fact by looking a little extra grumpy. Charlie smiled softly in apology.

“So, I guess we can all pay a visit to Linda tomorrow and get this business handled once and for all,” Charlie suggested, standing up.

“One of us should rent the truck,” Sam suggested. “And someone needs to arrange the release of all the weapons from police custody. They might be less inclined to just hand them over now that they’ve been involved in an attempted murder inside the evidence lockup.”

“Me and Cas can handle that,” Dean replied. “The detective knows us best. And Jake’ll probably need to sign off on it too, since he’s the one who’d been examining everything before he was attacked.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll swing by the hospital and talk to him before I pick up the truck.”

“Mom, Charlie… maybe the two of you should visit Linda together,” Dean added. “She’s already met mom, so that might make things go easier.”

Mary and Charlie both nodded in agreement.

“Well, then,” Charlie said, looking around the room. “I suppose I should see if this fine establishment has any more vacancies for the night.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mary said. “You can stay here.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, desperately trying to conceal a smirk. “Dean and Cas won’t mind, will you guys?”

“Why don’t you volunteer your own room,” Dean grumbled, but he didn’t grumble _too_ hard, because it hadn’t been ten minutes since he’d been trying to dream up some excuse to spend a little more time in Cas’s bed. This saved him the bother of pretending he had the energy to sit up and keep watching movies to have an excuse to do it. It had been a long damn day.

“You sure it’s okay with you, Dean? I don’t wanna intrude or anything,” Charlie said, giving him one last chance for an out.

“I certainly don’t mind,” Cas replied before Dean had a chance to get his own mouth in gear.

Charlie smiled. “I appreciate it. I’ve been back two days and haven’t slept yet. It’s gonna be a weird adjustment to get back to being on Earth time. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“Dimensional lag,” Cas said with a solemn and understanding nod.

“You’d probably know best,” Charlie said, giving him a hearty pat on the shoulder before pointing one hand toward the bathroom. “You mind if I freshen up for a minute?”

“Make yourself at home,” Dean replied.

“I guess we’ll see you guys in the morning then,” Sam said. “It’s great to have you back, Charlie.”

“It’s great to be back,” she replied, and then turned to Mary. “Congrats on the resurrection, by the way.”

“We should start some sort of club,” Mary replied. “The Not Dead Anymore Society, maybe.”

“Yeah, well the rest of us have been in that club for a decade, so…” Dean trailed off, and Cas laughed.

“It’s nice meeting you, Charlie,” Mary said. “If these boys give you any trouble, just wake me up.”

Mary pulled the door closed behind her, and suddenly Dean, Cas, and Charlie were left to awkwardly assess their current situation.

“If you two would rather have your privacy, I understand,” Charlie said. “I really don’t mind getting another room.”

“It’s really fine, Charlie,” Dean said, standing up and walking over to his duffel bag. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have a change of clothes that’ll fit you, but you’re welcome to anything else you need.”

Charlie finally unfastened her cloak and draped it across the foot of her bed. Beneath it she wore an outfit that would look very much at home at a Moondoor LARP. Brown leather pants, a soft cream colored blouse with a leather jerkin over top of it. She slung a slim backpack from her shoulders and set it down on the bed, then proceeded to pull item after item from it while Dean and Cas both watched in amazement.

“So bags of holding are a real thing?” Dean asked after she’d pulled out a set of pajamas and a small toiletry kit.

She grinned up at him and laid out her outfit for the next morning before repacking everything else and setting the bag on the floor. “Like I said, a girl can learn a lot in seven years.”

With that mysterious answer, she slipped into the bathroom and shut the door. Dean pulled out a pair of sweats. He glanced over his shoulder to see Cas staring at him.

“You don’t mind sharing your bed?” Dean asked, keeping his back turned to Cas while he changed out of his jeans and into the sweats.

Cas didn’t say anything at first, but when Dean turned around and pulled off his flannel overshirt Cas shook his head. “You’re not a restless sleeper. I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Restlessness got nothin’ to do with it, Cas,” Dean muttered, sitting back against the headboard with his legs stretched out on top of the covers, his head tipped back and his eyes closed.

Charlie came out of the bathroom wearing a set of green plaid flannel pajamas that somehow made Dean think of Christmas, and Cas excused himself to go change and brush his teeth.

“So, back to boring old Earth clothes for you now, I guess,” Dean said, waving a hand at the jeans she’d set out for the next morning.

Charlie shrugged. “Seven years of LARPing was enough, really. I actually missed zippers. And t-shirts.”

“So you’re gonna resign your throne in Moondoor?”

“No way,” Charlie replied, lifting the covers to climb into her bed. “I’m probably gonna have to win it back, though. Can I still count on your faithful sword, handmaiden?”

Dean grinned at her and made a half-bow, tipping an imaginary hat. “At your service, my queen.”

“We’ll have to initiate Cas into the royal court too now,” she said, carefully looking over at Dean and waving one hand toward the bathroom. “Since you two are...“

Dean felt all the expression melt off his face out of long habit. “Since we’re what?”

“Whatever you two are,” Charlie replied. “I haven’t quite figured out what you are, but you’re definitely something.”

“You’re something,” Dean snapped back.

“I have eyes. I’ve been watching the two of you together for the last hour. Even your own mother knows you’re _something_ , Dean. She didn’t stutter over offering me your bed, like she wasn’t really expecting you to need it anyway.”

Dean’s eyes bugged out as the shock of hearing it stated so plainly washed over him. Charlie sat up and stared at him openmouthed.

“Wait, you’re telling me you’re _not_ something?”

Dean cleared his throat and shook his head. “Nothing official anyway.”

“Well then maybe you should be,” Charlie said more quietly as Cas opened the bathroom door.

Dean got up and raced to the bathroom, sidestepping past Cas so fast he only caught a glimpse of Cas’s bewilderment before shutting the door behind him and staring at his flushed and startled face in the mirror. He could hear Cas and Charlie talking quietly in the next room, but was relieved to find he couldn’t make out their words. There was a chance that Cas hadn’t overheard his fumbling replies to Charlie’s very direct questions. Then again, if he knew Charlie at all, she was giving Cas a similar interrogation while he stood by the sink having his little existential crisis.

Well, if that was the case, there was nothing he could really do to stop it now. He could go barging back into the room, but he still needed to brush his teeth. It was a flimsy excuse, but it kept him from running back out there like a madman to interrupt what was probably a completely innocent conversation.

Sure, innocent. Dean wasn’t an idiot. He’d known the deal for months before Cas even gave up his grace to stay with him permanently.

And Sam. Cas had wanted to stay with Sam, too.

But Dean had known since that night in Ramiel’s barn what Cas had meant. He knew that was a big part of the reason Cas had made the choice he did. Cas loved him. Plain and simple.

But what did that even _mean_ to an angel? Or an ex-angel?

Who Dean had said was probably more human than him less than an hour ago.

Dean groaned at his own stupid internal monologue and turned on the water to brush his teeth. He knew exactly what Cas had meant. Maybe he’d just been an idiot, or a coward, waiting for Cas to make the first move. It had seemed like the right thing to do at first; to give Cas a little space, to not pressure him into anything when he was still getting used to being human again. If he was really being honest with himself, though, Dean could admit that Cas had already made the first move. And the second. And maybe even a few more after that.

It had been months now since that horrifying _I love you_ ; horrifying mostly because of the circumstances. Cas had thought he was dying. He’d thought he’d never get another chance to say it. And then he didn’t die, and it became horrifying in an entirely new way. He couldn’t take those words back, and yet Dean had absolutely no idea what to do with them now.

It wasn’t like he didn’t love Cas right back, even if he’d never worked up the nerve to say the words to him.

Dean stood there brushing his teeth, staring at the foamy froth dribbling down the handle of his toothbrush toward his fingers, and thinking about Bert the faerie giving up everything to stay with his human love. What if he’d done all that-- abandoned his home and his family and his immortality-- and Linda had never had the balls to do anything in return?

They’d had ten happy years together before he’d been killed. And that’s another thing that terrified Dean every single day. Cas was just as vulnerable now as Bert had been. It’s not like their jobs were conducive to healthy living. Something could happen to Cas-- hell, something could just as easily happen to _him_ \-- and it would be a fucking tragedy if he’d never said anything…

Dean spat out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth out. He took one last long look in the mirror, promising himself he’d talk to Cas about everything as soon as they had a quiet moment alone. At least that wouldn’t be happening tonight with Charlie in the next bed. He let that thought calm his rattled nerves and turned out the light.

He opened the bathroom door to hear Charlie telling Cas all about the Queen of Moons’ royal court, and explaining his new duties as an official knight of Moondoor. Cas was slightly bewildered but nodded along to her explanations of various tournaments and activities he could participate in at the next event.

“But your main duties will be to guard my handmaiden,” Charlie said, winking at Dean as he rolled his eyes at her.

“I don’t need a guard, Charlie.”

“I’ve been guarding you for years, Dean. It’s become a reflex,” Cas replied, grinning up at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean conceded, shuffling over to the vacant side of Cas’s bed and climbing under the covers. “Right back atcha.”

Cas smiled softly at him and settled down on his pillow. Dean glanced over to see Charlie grinning back at them from inside her blanket burrito on the other bed.

“Just don’t get up to anything weird over there while I’m trying to sleep here,” Charlie said.

Dean rolled his eyes at her and turned off the light.

“Night Charlie,” Dean said, realizing that Charlie deserved to hear a few words just as much as Cas did. “Glad you’re back. I really missed you.”

“Same here, Dean. Sorry I put you through that. If I’d have known it would take so long to get back--”

“Shut up.” Dean heard her sniffle, and had to swallow hard so he wouldn’t choke up too. “You did what you had to do. I get that. Believe me, I get it.”

“Thanks,” she replied, and then rolled over with a sigh. “Love you too.”

“Goodnight Dean,” Cas said, stretching one hand across the blanket and resting it on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean yawned, taking the excuse to nudge his shoulder even further under Cas’s palm. When he was done he reached up to press Cas’s hand down to keep him from pulling away.

“Night, Cas.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dean slowly came to consciousness, desperately trying to hold on to the last wisps of whatever he’d been dreaming about. He clung to flashes of soft color and warmth, until all he had left was the vague sense that it had been a pretty damn good dream for him. And Cas had been there. Between finally having a decent dream instead of a nightmare for once, and feeling entirely comfortable, warm, and cozy under the blankets, he resisted waking up in a way he hadn’t in years.

The window of their motel room faced east. Either he’d neglected to close them last night, or else someone had opened the drapes to let the sunrise pour through the window and hit him square in the face. Dean tried to squeeze his eyes more tightly shut. When that failed to block out the glare he turned his face down to give himself just another minute or two of peace before he’d have to move, because _damn he felt awesome_. Something strange tickled against his cheek and he nuzzled his face into his pillow to brush away the feeling. That’s as far as his train of thought was allowed to roll out of the station before his pillow nuzzled back.

Dean cracked one eye open to see the top of Cas’s head burrowed down beneath his jaw. He blinked a few more times and made a more thorough assessment of his entire situation now that he was awake enough to separate reality out from his rapidly evaporating dream.

The warm weight around his ribs wasn’t just the blankets pulled tight across his side, and he wasn’t squeezing a spare pillow to his chest. He was just getting to the analysis of how his leg seemed to have ended up draped over Cas’s thigh, sliding his knee up an inch or two to confirm that theory, when Cas blinked up at him with a sleepy smile. Dean opened his mouth, about to say something, maybe to apologize or maybe just to say good morning, but he never got the chance.

Charlie cleared her throat, and Dean froze for a second before slowly turning to see her sitting across the room at the little table, fully dressed for the day with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Cas had lifted his head just enough to look up at her as well, and then minutely tightened his grip on Dean; either tensing defensively or maybe just to prevent him from bolting. Dean let out a slow breath and closed his eyes, settling back down against Cas.

“Why don’t you take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Dean said, and Cas relaxed his grip and turned his head to huff out a little laugh against Dean’s shoulder.

“Already did,” Charlie replied cheerfully. “I used your phone. I figured you’d want to commemorate this Kodak moment.”

Dean grunted in reply but otherwise didn’t move. He was still too content for that. Charlie didn’t care if he and Cas were all cuddled up together. Hell, Charlie was _alive and there_ to not care. Between that and the fact that _he and Cas were all cuddled up together_ \-- not to mention that Cas seemed just as content as he was with that-- there wasn’t much that could spoil his mood in that moment.

Cas released his grip on Dean’s back, and Dean was about to complain until Cas practically dove on top of him, stretching out across him to reach Dean’s phone where Charlie had left it on the nightstand. He settled back into place a moment later, pulled up the photo gallery and showed the picture to Dean. Cas’s face was barely visible above the edge of the blankets, fast asleep with his head resting against Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s head was bowed to the top of Cas’s, as if he’d fallen asleep pressing kisses into Cas’s hair.

Dean could feel the smile on his face and knew he didn’t have any reason to try and hide it. He glanced down at Cas to see him nervously smiling back. Dean gave him a reassuring little squeeze and finally did press that kiss to the top of Cas’s head.

“Yeah, neither of you are allowed to try and tell me you’re not something anymore. If I’d known you were out here acting all pathetic and piney and avoiding your feelings all this time, I’d have asked for a special exception from the Queen to come back sooner to kick you both in the ass.”

“Yeah, well, at least it didn’t require an actual ass kicking,” Dean said.

Charlie shrugged and stood up, slapping her hands to her thighs. “Sam and your mom are meeting us at the diner across the street as soon as you two can peel yourselves off each other. I’m heading over there now to convene the Not Dead Society’s first official meeting, so try to be not dead by the time you show up, ‘kay?”

“We’ll do our best,” Cas replied, and Charlie laughed as she made her way out the door.

Dean grumbled a little bit and flopped back down into the pillows, still blinking against the brightening sunlight streaming directly into his face. “Shoulda made her shut the curtains before she left.”

Cas scooted up the pillows just enough to block the worst of the glare with the back of his head. This also put Cas’s face inches from Dean’s, which was simultaneously intriguing and terrifying.

“Hey, sunshine,” he said, setting the phone down on the bed and then settling his arm back around Cas.

“Hello, Dean.”

“So all this time, you stuck around for m-- uh… I mean, you really want us to be something?”

A flurry of emotions fluttered across Cas’s features, and Dean picked out surprise and hope and maybe just a hint of exasperation.

“I haven’t made that a secret, Dean.”

“Well you haven’t exactly said anything, either. I didn’t want to push.”

“Dean, I told you I loved you--”

“Yeah, when you thought you were dying--”

Cas gave him a little shake, as best he could when they were already practically curled around each other, to shut him up.

“Then I voluntarily gave up my grace and chose to stay with you.”

“I know. But I never wanted to pressure you into _staying_ with me. You got the whole world to do whatever you want with the rest of your life. I didn’t wanna assume you’d be happy living in a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere forever.”

“You idiot,” Cas said, but he was smiling now. “Did you hear what I just said? I chose to stay _with you_. Do you need me to rephrase that to make it clearer?”

Dean swallowed hard and took a shaky breath that didn’t do much to calm the swarm of killer butterflies that had erupted behind his ribs. His voice came out quiet but remarkably even, considering there was some sort of world-altering seismic shift happening inside him. “So that’s really how you love me?”

He slid his hand up Cas’s back and clenched a fistful of Cas’s t-shirt, holding on for dear life. Cas leaned even closer, the tips of their noses a hair’s breadth from touching.

“Yes, Dean, that’s really how I love you.”

Dean nodded just a fraction of an inch, closing his eyes for a second. “Good. ‘Cause that’s how I love you too.”

He could hardly believe he’d said it. It had been true for so long, nearly a decade of _waiting,_ but Dean had spent just as long stomping down any hope that he’d ever get a chance to admit it. He’d spent years forcing himself to accept that Cas was beyond his reach, that Cas might never feel the same, and consequently had years’ worth of backlogged feelings all trying to escape at once. The urge to laugh and cry and dance around the room and scream and maybe feel a little bit queasy and lightheaded to boot overwhelmed him for a split second before he just nodded again and closed the last inch between them.

Cas made a surprised little yip when Dean’s lips touched his, but the moment Dean tried to ease away Cas reeled him back in. The kiss started out soft and gentle, but all those years’ worth of feelings roared to the surface. Dean grabbed him tighter, sliding his leg the rest of the way across Cas’s thigh and locking him in place. Cas groaned as Dean deepened the kiss and rocked his hips forward, seeking any sort of relief for his growing erection.

“Dean,” Cas gasped, throwing his head back and gasping for breath, his hips rolling against Dean’s in retaliation.

Dean kissed his way down Cas’s neck and slowly slid his hand down beneath the waistband of Cas’s sleep pants. In response Cas thrust his hips forward again, grinding his hardening cock against Dean’s.

“Dean,” Cas said again, breathless and tugging at the back of Dean’s shirt while Dean ground against him again. ‘Dean, they’re waiting for us. Across the street.”

Dean surged up and captured Cas’s lips in a quick and dirty kiss before he pulled back to catch his breath and look Cas in the eye. “We waited how many years for this? They can fucking wait a little bit longer for us.”

Cas stared at him for a moment and then tugged at Dean’s shirt again, but this time Dean grinned and complied, propping himself up enough to whip the shirt over his head and toss it across the room. The rest of their clothes followed in a mad scramble that ended with Dean lying naked atop Cas, bearing him down into the mattress, drowning him in kisses as he relished the feel of every inch of Cas’s warm body beneath him.

This wasn’t how Dean had ever imagined any of this would happen. Well, it was one of a nearly infinite number of potential ways he may have imagined it happening over the years, but now in the moment he could hardly believe it was happening at all. He both wanted to savor every touch, to take his time and sear every second of it into his memory for all time, but at the same time he just wanted to sink into Cas, to sear himself into Cas the same way Cas had laid his claim on Dean all those years ago. Part of him wanted to make this last as long as possible, while another screamingly urgent part was lost in the frenzy and amazement that this was really Cas, and Cas _loved_ him and wanted him and needed him as much as Dean needed Cas. It was almost too much to drink in all at once.

Cas clawed at his back, thrusting up to meet Dean’s body in desperate need. He wrapped one leg around Dean, pulling him closer and wriggling his hips until their cocks slid together in a frantic rhythm. Dean broke from their kiss to watch Cas’s face as they raced to completion. Cas stared up at him for the last few thrusts before he toppled over the edge, his eyes slamming shut as he cried out. Dean’s heart clenched at the sight and he toppled after Cas, groaning out his name and burying his face against Cas’s neck as he came.

They lay there for several long minutes while they caught their breath, Cas slowly tracing random patterns on Dean’s back, Dean planting the occasional lazy kiss to Cas’s neck and shoulder. Eventually Dean sighed and propped himself up enough to look down at Cas with a smile of utter contentment. Cas grinned up at him, and Dean leaned in for another kiss before pulling away with a sigh.

“I hate to say this now, but we probably should get going.”

Cas nodded and leaned up for one last kiss before nudging against Dean’s shoulder so he could sit up, taking in the sticky mess between them. “We should probably clean this up first.”

Dean just laughed, pulling Cas by the hand into the bathroom.

 

By the time they showed up at the diner twenty minutes later, Mary, Sam, and Charlie had finished eating. Charlie shot them a delighted look when they made their way to the table. Sam glanced back and forth between Charlie and the two of them, and Dean saw it the instant the lightbulb went off for him. He’d braced himself for whatever snarky comment Sam had probably been saving up for this moment, but Sam just smiled and nodded. Dean heaved a relieved breath and slumped into the chair beside his brother. Mary watched curiously as Cas took the seat beside Dean, resting his hand on Dean’s shoulder for just a moment before sitting down and studying the menu.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, pre-empting any weird commentary from the peanut gallery. “We figured it out. End of story.”

Dean and Cas ordered breakfast while Charlie went over all the “official” paperwork she’d whipped up for them to take to the police station. Dean complimented her on her thorough mastery of FBI documentation. She’d come a long way since that first djinn case.

“Didn’t realize they were so up to date on law enforcement procedures in Arkhmoor,” he teased, while Mary signed off on all the evidence transfer request forms.

“Pffft,” Charlie replied. “I spent my entire first day back here pulling together everything I’d stashed in the cloud before I ditched out, and setting up a new laptop. There’s some new tech I need to spend some time getting acquainted with, but the day I can’t handle a simple hack on the FBI is the day I permanently retire to the Hollow Forest. I double checked everything this morning, and these are all the most current forms.”

Dean and Cas finished eating while Mary and Charlie dropped Sam by the hospital to meet with Jake. The truck rental company was only a couple blocks from the hospital, so once Sam got Jake’s approval to transfer custody of the entire collection to the “FBI lab” for “further testing,” he’d only have a short walk to pick up the moving van.

Mary and Charlie would meet with Linda on behalf of the Queen of Arkhmoor to offer their official condolences and pay their respects. All Dean and Cas had to do was set everything else in motion. And hopefully not get attacked by the A’s before Charlie could make it back to the station to run interference for them. The hobbit twins might be willing to stand down from further action as long as the status quo stood, but if they saw their brother’s precious collection being loaded on yet another truck to be driven off to some undisclosed location and Charlie wasn’t there acting in the Queen’s name, they might not be best pleased. At least Dean felt pretty confident he’d spot and recognize the two small men if they were still lurking around the station.

The station had quieted down in the aftermath of the previous night’s bizarre attack. Dean and Cas shared a knowing look when the desk sergeant smiled pleasantly and welcomed them back as if nothing shockingly out of the ordinary had happened there only twelve hours earlier. They’d seen it over and over again. It was easier for most people to practically forget the inexplicable thing, rather than to confront the reality that there might be monsters or spirits or even angels and demons out there. Dean shrugged at Cas. They were more than happy to let folks cling to their ignorance. Other folks were either too stubborn or too inquisitive to let it go completely, and sometimes that just ended up getting them hurt.

Detective Bynum was one of the latter. He met them by the evidence lockup and went over every last form before letting them have the run of the room.

“This case involved one of our own, Agents. I hope you catch whoever… or whatever… did this,” he said, handing back the file after he’d studied it.

Dean nodded gravely. “We have a couple of suspects. I don’t think they’ll cause any more trouble here.”

“Trouble,” Bynum grunted, and then shook his head and left Dean and Cas to pack up all the “evidence.”

Dean sighed with relief when they were finally left alone, and stomped over to the paper towel dispenser. He grabbed several handfuls of towels and wiped every last trace of faerie blood from each blade it had splattered across before packing everything into several large wooden crates. Cas took care of the unstained weapons and armor. By the time they’d finished checking every item off the inventory list Charlie had given them, Sam had arrived with the truck.

It took several trips, but when everything else was loaded, Dean went back inside for the sword and gauntlet that were still waiting in Jake’s lab for further testing that had now been rendered obsolete. Jake had been disappointed to learn that the FBI was taking his interesting new toys away from him so soon, even taking into account the ordinary conflict of interest issues surrounding a forensic technician processing evidence in a crime they’d been a victim of.  Jake had tried to insist that he’d only observe the testing and not conduct any of it himself, if they’d just agree to keep everything local.

Sam couldn’t really blame him for taking such a keen interest in the one of a kind weapons. It was a frustratingly unhealthy interest, and Sam took it upon himself to use this as a teachable moment. He explained in the most roundabout way possible where the weapons had actually come from, and who exactly had attacked him in the evidence lockup that night. Jake had blanched, and Sam was relieved that he hadn’t been connected to a heart monitor machine. He had no doubt some sort of alarm would be sounding at that moment if he was.

After a few solemn moments of stunned contemplation, he’d unsurprisingly decided that the FBI was probably better equipped to handle that sort of business. He had no desire to put his job at risk by publicly trying to claim that he’d been attacked by a couple of literal hobbits from a faerie realm, and decided it was probably safest-- despite looking really conflicted about his decision-- to try and forget the entire case had ever existed.

“He didn’t want to fight those fairies,” Sam said gravely as he and Dean loaded the final crate onto the truck.

Dean just glared at his brother and slammed the door shut.

Sam got in the truck and saluted Dean before driving off to their rendezvous point with Charlie and Mary. Dean and Cas followed behind in the Impala while Dean grudgingly recounted the entire story of their previous encounter with fairies for Cas’s benefit. If Sam was gearing up to torment him for the details of his time in Oberon’s court, at least Cas would be on his side. In theory. Cas mostly chuckled at Dean’s expense for the rest of the drive out of town.

 

Mary and Charlie pulled out in front of Sam a few blocks from the station and led the way to the shore of a small lake a few miles outside of town. The road Mary had turned down narrowed out into barely more than a wide overgrown walking path after a mile or so, and Sam barely made it between the trees with the large moving van. Dean was torn between laughing about Sam having to back the thing out when they were through and hoping like hell there might be enough room to turn the truck around at the end of the dirt road.

Sam evidently had the same thought and signaled that he was backing out before the path narrowed down too far to keep driving forward. Dean groaned and rolled his eyes, but backed out to where the road was still paved and parked the Impala safely out of the way.

“Shit, this probably means we’re gonna have to haul all that shit through the woods,” he grumbled as he and Cas got out of the car.

With the truck no longer blocking the view, Dean could see the lake off in the distance through the long, narrow tunnel of trees, and Mary’s car parked down at the end of the path. She and Charlie jogged the half mile or so back to meet them, frowning as they came to the same conclusion that Dean had.

“Did you boys manage to get everything?” Mary asked, watching Sam roll up the back door of the truck.

“Yeah,” Dean said, squinting into the dark interior through the glare of late morning sunshine. “Three coffin-sized crates and a few dozen cardboard boxes.”

“We should get to work, then,” Charlie said, jumping up into the truck and passing down a box into Cas’s waiting hands. “Just make a pile where the treeline meets the shore. I’ll open the door when we’ve got everything ready to go through.”

With the five of them working together, they emptied the truck in just under an hour. Most of that time had been spent trying not to trip and fall face first into the weeds overgrowing the long, uneven path. Charlie surveyed the neatly stacked boxes perched on the verge between forest and lake.

“Okay, that’s everything.” She turned at addressed Dean specifically with a deadly serious look on her face. “I guess you’re gonna be able to see exactly what’s happening here, but the rest of you… I don’t actually know what to tell you.”

“What do you mean?” Mary asked.

Charlie frowned. “Opening a door to Faerie can have some… strange effects. Dean can tell you all about it. Since we’re not technically going _through_ the door, you might just get caught in the blowback.”

“Is that… dangerous?” Mary asked.

Charlie glanced from Mary to Dean, who shrugged.

“Only if you don’t wanna risk potentially finding yourself talking to people nobody else can see…” Dean said, smirking.

“It’s not dangerous,” Charlie added, shooting a quelling glare at Dean. “Just… inconvenient sometimes.”

“There’s only a small chance we’ll be affected at all,” Cas added. “But if you’d prefer not to take that risk, walking back to the truck should put enough distance between us to prevent Faerie from... splashing over onto you.”

Mary considered that for a minute while Sam stood there with his hands in his pockets, grinning.

“Hell if I’m gonna miss my chance to get a peek at the grabby incandescent douchebags,” Sam said, side-eyeing Dean.

Dean just groaned and took a couple steps closer to Cas so he could grumble under his breath, “See, told you he was gonna be an ass about this.”

Cas grinned back and bumped his shoulder against Dean’s. The small, intimate contact lifted Dean’s mood instantly. Charlie sighed in exasperation at all of them and pulled a folded piece of parchment from her bottomless backpack.

“Everyone ready?”

She read out an incantation in a language that Dean had never heard before. He glanced over at Cas who seemed to be nodding along at Charlie’s words like he’d understood her perfectly. Knowing Cas, he probably had.

There was a bright flash of light and then suddenly a wide stone archway opened up over the stacks of boxes and crates. Dean could clearly see the forest on the other side of the arch, that it looked nothing like the sparse and scraggly woods they were standing in. For all Dean could see, it could’ve been Lothlorien itself. Huge white tree trunks stretched upward as far as he could see, and he found himself crouching down trying to get a glimpse of the tops of the enormous trees, to maybe catch an elf hopping around in the branches.

“Holy shit,” Sam said off to Dean’s right.

Dean was torn between taking in the look on Sam’s face or soaking up the sight of a faerie realm that would’ve probably reduced Tolkien to tears. He chose the latter, reaching down to take hold of Cas’s hand before shuffling a few steps closer to the archway into another dimension.

Charlie let them gawk for another minute or two before repeating the incantation and shutting the door, the entire pile of weapons and armor disappearing along with it. When it was done, she gazed around to make sure everyone was handling their newfound gift of faerie sight well. Dean had already had years to get used to the odd sensation of feeling that the faerie realm was always there, just out of sight. To Cas, of course, the return of that particular ability probably seemed like a normal part of existence anyway. Sam appeared thoughtful, glancing occasionally over at Dean with a mildly apologetic little frown, finally feeling a little remorse for years worth of teasing Dean about his special gift. Mary seemed delighted by the entire experience.

“Soooo,” Charle said, sweeping her hands out to the sides. “That was Arkhmoor.”

“Nice place,” Dean said. “I was kinda hoping to get a look at Galadriel.”

Mary snorted, and Charlie rolled her eyes at him.

“So, what are you planning to do with yourself now?” Sam asked her.

“Well, now that the A’s and all their stuff are back where they belong, and not out killing random citizens, I figure I should probably try and scrape together what’s left of my life out here. I don’t suppose you know what happened to my car after I left?”

Dean frowned down at his feet. He hadn’t really been entirely in touch with reality after Charlie had… well… after he’d _thought_ Charlie had died. He didn’t really know what had become of any of her stuff. Between hunting the Stynes to extinction and making queso and tamales for Death he’d had a busy couple of days. Then there was the Darkness and the zompires and Cas dying from Rowena’s spell, and Charlie’s car somehow fell through the cracks.

“Um,” Sam said after a painful minute of contemplation. “I, uh… cleaned it out, brought all your stuff back to the bunker, but… your car’s long gone. Sorry.”

Charlie’s brow pinched together and she bit her lower lip as she nodded slowly. “I get it. You thought I was dead.”

“Yeah,” Dean choked out. “Among other world-ending situations.”

“We probably got something you can drive until you can get yourself a new car, though,” Sam said, looking encouragingly over at Dean.

“Yeah, yeah. You can take the T-bird for now. If you feel like making the trip back to Kansas. We got space if you need a place to stay while you get back on your feet.”

Charlie smiled and nodded. “I appreciate it, guys. Us not-dead folk have to stick together.”

Dean nearly choked but he agreed.

“Well, if that’s settled, I think Cas and I are gonna head for home. You three are on your own.”

Dean gave Cas’s hand a little squeeze, and the two of them headed up the path back toward the road.

“You had to go and help them acknowledge their _feelings_ , didn’t you?” they heard Sam ask as they walked away. “Now we’re never gonna get them to stick around to the end of a hunt.”

They heard a smacking noise, and Sam yelped. Cas glanced over at Dean and smiled, knowing exactly how hard Charlie must’ve socked Sam in the arm.

“Shut up. It’s not nice to diss true love.”

Dean and Cas had to step into the trees when Mary’s car drove past, Sam pressing his face to the window to gawk at them, a silly grin plastered to his face. Sam leapt out at the end of the road to climb into the truck. Once the rumble of its engine faded into the distance, Dean and Cas were alone in the woods. They walked together in silence for a minute before Dean spoke.

“So, you think one day we might be able to go to Arkhmoor for a visit someday?”

“I don’t think Charlie would mind arranging that for us,” Cas replied.

Dean nodded and went quiet again for a minute, his thoughts racing far too fast.

“I, uh… your fake driver’s license probably isn’t enough ID to get legally married here, but maybe someday…”

Cas stopped walking at the edge of the forest canopy, pulling Dean to a sudden stop with him. Dean slowly turned to face him, worried about what Cas would have to say to what might be the world’s worst marriage proposal ever. When Dean finally met his eyes, Cas only looked confused.

“Are you… did you just ask me to marry you, Dean Winchester?”

“Sort of?”

Cas’s eyes narrowed and he tugged at Dean’s hand until Dean stumbled forward, nearly crashing into him.

“Sort of?”

“Yeah, okay, what if I did?”

Cas glared at him for a second longer, and then smiled. “If you did, I’d sort of say yes.”

It was Dean’s turn to glare. “Only sort of?”

Cas shrugged. “Technically I don’t exist, and you’re legally dead. Several times over.”

“Yet here we are, talking about getting hitched in an alternate universe where elves live in trees.”

“Huh,” Cas said, sliding his free hand around Dean’s waist and glancing around at the canopy of leaves above them, the sunlight flitting with shadows across his face as the wind rustled through the branches.

“What, huh?” Dean pulled Cas in closer.

“I told you you were Aragorn.”

Dean laughed and and didn't bother waiting to lean in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This entire story was based on an offhand comment to [elizabethrobertajones](http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com) while she was writing [A List of Reasons the Bunker Shouldn't Get A Sofa](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9379274). I suggested ONE (1) joke that would've ended up needing too much setup to work into that story, so I decided I should write a really short one-shot with it. 22k later... the joke's in there. It's not the hilarious punchline I'd originally envisioned, but I still think it's cute. :)
> 
> I'd gift this work to you, lizbob, but since you stuck me with it and it basically ate the last month of my life... It's like stepping into a faerie ring. Best not. :D
> 
> For more overwrought attempts at humor, come find me on the tumblr. I'm [mittensmorgul](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com).  
> [or go directly to the Hurry Up And Wait tumblr post](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/158052723350/tumblr_omdk5txvYK1qhtzbj)


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